


The Bittersweet Symphony

by halcyonharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Also Liam has total daddy issues, Angst, Based loosely on Cruel Intentions, Bottom Louis, Casual Sex, Harry has an attraction to Liam, Harry is bi, Harry is emotionally distant, Heartache, Heavy Drinking, Jealousy, Liam and Harry are stepbrothers, Louis is also a virgin, Louis is originally straight, M/M, Minor Character Death, Niall is peppy as hell, Oscar Wilde References, Overdose, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, Seduction, So many tags, Substance Abuse, Zayn is a stoner, all the boys attend Cambridge, artist/studious Louis, bless, brief Hiam moments, definitely smut, eventually, fighting?, hold on to your britches, kill me, mainly a Picture of Dorian Gray, old money, richboy asshole Harry and Liam, some Gatsby references, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7083190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonharry/pseuds/halcyonharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is the stepson of one of England's wealthiest hotel owners, George Payne of Payne Industries. Harry and his stepbrother Liam are thick as thieves, constantly scheming and breaking hearts. When a recent transfer student threatens to knock Liam out of the spotlight, Liam enlists the help of his step brother to destroy the student, an art major named Louis Tomlinson. The two formulate a bet, which has Harry craving victory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it begins..

The girl under Harry's body was moaning, her eyes shut, her petal pink acrylic fingernails dragging angry marks into his back. Harry thrusted into her, feeling the delicious crescendo that was making its way from his toes quickly, like lava building within a volcano.

"Oh _Harry_!" She groaned, her voice was high, approaching climax.

He felt her walls clench around him, it nearly sent him over the edge. Three more thrusts and that was it.

_One._

She wailed, her mouth hanging open in an O shape.

_Two._

Her blue eyes rolled back.

 _Three_.

With one final thrust, Harry came, his body shattering into a million fucking pieces, a wave rolled through him, and he collapsed on the silk sheets beside her.

There was two whole minutes of silence, where they lied there, their breathing erratic, sweat glistening off their salty skin. Harry counted down in his head, and as soon as he counted 1, the girl (Amy? Amanda?) rolled on her side, cushioning her cheek on her palm.

"That was incredible." She said, her eyes all shiny and blue in post coital glee.

Harry nodded, yawning, and closing his eyes. The girl cuddled against his chest.

_No. None of that please._

Harry pushed her away. and she looked up, a pout on her face. He threw the sheet off of him, revealing his cock that laid across his stomach, all fucked out. He gingerly pulled the spent condom off and tied it, shoving it back into the foil packet, and tucked it into his back pocket. He got up, immediately finding his boxer briefs and pulling them up his tan legs.

"Hey, where you going?" She asked, bottom lip stuck out like a child's.

"Home?" He retorted, as if it weren't obvious.

"Home?" The girl repeated.

"Yeah." He said without much thought, as he collected his jeans, sliding them on.

He didn't even have to look at her to know she was confused. Her mouth was set in a line, her blue eyes all wide and confused like a baby deer's.

"But why?" She asked.

_Jesus Christ, could she not take a hint??_

"I think we're done here." He chuckled.

"But? Why can't you just stay?" She asked.

"I have more pressing matters to attend to." He said curtly.

Just then, she sat up.

"What if I let you put it anywhere?" She cooed.

Harry looked at her, a smirk on his face.

"Darling, have some respect for yourself, that's just vile."

The girl's face turned pink, and before she could say anything, Harry was out the door.

Really, it wasn't the girl's fault, Harry just didn't get emotionally invested in people he fucked. She was nice enough, great tits and a cute face- but he'd only fucked her because he could, he had an itch that needed to be scratched, and the girl has nails that could reach. She'd been nearly begging for him since the term began, and he was in the need of a good fuck.

He buttoned his shirt as he left the girl's dorm, making sure he had everything: phone, keys, wallet, weed and the condom.

He fished out his phone, the screen lit up with twenty three missed calls from Liam. _Twenty Three_. "Fuck." Harry muttered as he shoved the phone back into the ripped pocket of his black jeans.

He found his 1956 Jaguar roadster just where he parked it, sparkling black with red upholstery. It was an antique, he bought it himself, it was one of his most prized possessions. It was the first luxury he ever treated himself to that wasn't bought for him.

***

He was the son of Anne Styles, the famous wedding planner and designer who'd planned several of the United Kingdom's finest weddings, including one of the Spice Girls. (Harry could never remember which, not that he cared obviously) Anne met Harry's dad, Des, who was a famous musician, when she was hired to plan his wedding. The two eventually ended up having an affair, and his wedding was called off. Two years later, Anne and Des married.

Des died when Harry was three, the official report claimed Des died of a heart attack, but the truth was that he had a coke addiction. Harry was the one who found his dad, lying in a pool of his own vomit, a line of white powder on the portrait of Des and Anne on their wedding day.

A few years later Anne remarried George Payne of Payne industries. The tall, thin and broad shouldered man with black hair streaked with gray. He never smiled, never really showed much emotion except anger and pride.

The two never loved each other, not that it mattered really, when you're that rich, you don't marry for love, you marry for business. George had his secretaries, and Anne had her tan, muscled workout trainers. It was fucked up. But Harry's entire childhood was nothing close to normality.

George's only son, Liam, was Harry's age, and from the first day they met, almost fifteen years ago, the two were as thick as thieves. Harry was Liam's right hand man, his confidant, his knight. Harry did anything Liam asked-schemes and pranks and breaking the hearts of anyone who crossed Liam. It didn't matter really, Harry indulged in both boys and girls, he had no preference, it was Liam he was after anyways.

Harry could have anyone he wanted, and he oftentimes did. No one could resist him, he was beautiful: golden skin, pine colored eyes, strawberry lips and his soft, wavy chocolate curls. The only person he couldn't have was Liam, though he had a small taste, two years ago the two got blackout drunk on New Years and Harry faintly remembers sucking him off on the balcony. Liam still swears it never happened.

***

As he drives, he wonders what was so bad that Liam had called him that many times. The thought of Liam asking Harry to fuck him briefly crossed his mind, and he couldn't fight the grin. It was improbable, but a man could dream couldn't he? Harry began to mentally prepare himself for whatever Liam was going to say, because he was surely going to rip into him for not answering his phone. Harry wasn't scared, in fact, angry Liam was his favorite Liam. The clenched fists. Furrowed eyebrows. The quiver of his bottom lip. The way his always styled hair became disheveled and messy. The image in Harry's mind made his cock twitch.

Harry drives a little too fast through London's streets, finding himself in front of Payne's Hotel and Suites. He shuts off the engine, cutting off Fleet Foxes. Harry slipped out of the car, locking it and tossing the keys to the valet, who barely caught them in time. He winked at the valet like the rich boy asshole he was.

Harry walked along the sidewalk that lead to the hotel with a sort of regality. He looked like a prince, with his tight fitting pants, his floral shirt and the golden ankle boots. The breeze pushed his curls in all directions and slipped through the material of his half opened shirt, brushing up against his chest, almost caressing the swallows and the moth on his chest to life.

He smiled as he waltzed indoors, inhaling the clean, fresh scent that was Payne Hotel and Suites- it smelled like off-shore accounts, cocaine addiction and secret affairs. _Old money_.

The Hotel was Liam's early graduation gift from his father, his suite was on the top floor. The place fucking emanated wealth and pretentiousness and grandeur with it's fashionable golden accents and pearlescent floors and the tall ceilings, decorated like an ancient chapel. The rugs were imported and hand woven. The chandelier that hung in the lobby was crystal, not glass. The artwork, the paintings and the sculptures, were all purchased from some of England's finest artists, Liam called himself a collector.

Harry used to play a game to see how much he could get away with before Liam would have security carry him out, but most of the staff already knew Harry, so it grew quite boring after a few failed attempts. However Harry could always recognize a new staff member, and he saw the fresh faced lobby boy wearing the royal blue uniform of the hotel and decided to haze the poor fuck.

Harry retrieved the antique cigarette case from his pocket and lit a joint with his white lighter and took a puff, reveling in his post-fuck high. Harry made his way past the blown glass sculpture, dragging a finger over it, inspecting for dust, not there was any, Liam was a neat freak and had everything cleaned three times a week.

Harry caught the lobby boy's attention, and his eyes widened as he nearly climbed over the marble receptions desk.

" _Sir_! It's against the rules to smoke in here! Please put that out!"

Harry stopped, smiling as he turned, facing the guy who looked to be younger than him. He took a long thoughtful drag of the spliff and blew it out through his nose like a dragon. A mix between surprise and disgust painted the boy's face.

"Excuse me, ugh-" Harry glanced at the boy's golden name tag, which read the name of Jessie. "Jessie, do you know who lives in Suite 70?" Harry asked, his voice slow and velvet. His eyes held a mischievous gleam, the ghost of his infamous smirk on his lips.

"Um, well, that's where Mr. Payne lives sir." The lobby boy stammered.

Harry took another long drag and observed the joint with faux curiosity.

"Mr. Payne, the owner of this fine hotel, is my step brother." Harry smiled, flashing his teeth like the big bad wolf, as he saw shock in the boy's eyes.

"You're, you're Harry Styles. I'm-i'm sorry sir." The boy stuttered.

Harry grinned again, with less mischief and pulled a couple notes out of his wallet. He quickly fixed the lobby boy's collar and tie, before shoving the notes in his pocket and placing the joint in the boy's open mouth.

He leaned in close, his lips grazing the boys ear. "Thank you for your loyalty to this great establishment."

Harry smiled, kissed the boy's cheek before patting him on the back and making his way to the elevator. The boy stood there; a few hundred pound notes in his pocket and a lit joint between his lips, his expression of shock seemed almost cartoonish.

Harry laughed all the way up to the 70th suite.

The doors opened and Harry walked in, brushing past the butler and all the suites marble and gold grandeur, and heading straight to Liam's room, the biggest of the rooms in the suite. He pushed open the mahogany doors, entering the gold room that was Liam's.

The place looked like a English manor's parlor room, with large windows and a wall covered by a bookcase and a four poster bed with a mountain of silk sheets and throw pillows. It was all posh and fucking obnoxious but Harry reveled in it, he was like Nick Carraway having his first taste of Gatsby's lifestyle.

Liam was no where to be seen, so Harry made himself a drink. He just poured himself a glass of scotch that was as old as he was, when he heard Liam.

"That bastard better be on his way or so help me Go-" Liam pushed through the doors and Harry grinned, leaning against the dresser, sipping his drink nonchalantly.

Liam's chocolate eyes burned almost black, his gelled hair falling into his face, slight stubble darkening his face. He was livid. Harry hid his smile behind his glass.

"Where have you _been_?!" His voice was like thunder- loud and menacing. If Harry wasn't used to Liam's wrath, he might've been afraid.

Might have. 

Instead, Liam appeared more like an angry kitten rather than the pissed off son of England's richest hotel owner.

"Around." Harry said bluntly, swirling his scotch around its crystalline glass.

" _Around_?! I called you twenty times!" He spat.

"Twenty three actually." Harry said, shrugging.

"Don't be a prick." Liam said, regaining his cool slowly. He was wearing his usual billionaire- son-of-God attire, tight fitting dress pants and a form fitting champagne pink dress shirt with the first couple buttons undone, revealing his tan chest and the hint of chest hair. He smelled like pale gold and wealth, the watch on his wrist cost more than his tuition at Cambridge, a 18th birthday gift from the old man.

"So why the twenty three missed calls, old sport?" Harry winked, finishing his scotch with a slight wince.

"I have a favor to ask,” Liam went to his armoire, opening the old wooden box. “Well, more of a  _ game _ really.” He withdrew a Cuban cigar, and properly unwrapped it. 

“A game? It’s been a long time since we’ve played one of those.” Harry said curiously.

“Yes, it has, hasn’t it. And if you do this for me, I’ll make it worthwhile.” 

"But what makes you think i'm willing to be your little pawn, Payne? I already have everything I need." Harry rolls his eyes.

Liam smiles to himself as he lights the cigar.

"I have to believe that the reward will interest you." Liam smirked.

"I have no need for your daddy's money, Payno." 

"I'm not talking about any monetary reward." Liam smiles.

Harry's interest  was sparked. H _e couldn't mean_? His smirk faltered into a hard line.

"If you do this for me, i'll be yours, for whatever you want." Liam smiled.

 _Oh fuck_.

Harry doesn't let his shock mar his poker face. He remains cool, placid.

 _Keep your shit together, Styles_.

"How big is this request that you would be willing to give yourself to me?" He asks, in his bored tone, seating himself in one of the plush velvet chairs near the window.

 "Alright, you know the new senior who transferred here from St. Andrews?" Liam asked, folding his arms behind his back as he looked out the window over London.

"Should I?" Harry asked, stretching his long legs over the side of the chair, knowing the chair was older than shit and cost more than Harry's boots. Usually Liam would scold him, but he was currently deep in thought.

"I guess not, he's an art major, you may not fraternize with that sort." Liam chuckled lightheartedly.

"So what about this bloke? What's his name?" Harry asked, reaching into his back pocket for another spliff.

"Louis Tomlinson. He arrived here a few months ago." Liam's voice was cold, he sounded like a Bond villain.

Harry noticed the acid in his voice and was suddenly intrigued. Harry seemed to be the only thing that could bother Liam. What about this boy put a splinter in this golden lion's paw?

"Ever since he showed up at Cambridge, he's been outshining me in everything." Liam snapped.

" _Outshining_?" Harry chortled. Liam's daddy issues were shining through once again.

Being a benefactor of the university, Daddy Payne knew all that there was to know about the uni, including those who were at the top of the class, which Liam was.

"Yes, you prat, his marks are the highest in the history of the school, his work was sold for a fifth of a million pounds last month at the charity gala in London, not to mention he's good friends with the bloody fucking dean! He's got a piece in the newspaper, he's all anyone is talking about on the board." Liam snarled.

Liam was one of the greatest students at Cambridge, not only because of his father's generous donations, but he really was incredibly intelligent. Everyone thought that Liam bought his admission, which wasn't all that untrue, but regardless of his father's connections, Liam was a top student. He was brilliant and clever as hell, his marks were great, could anyone really overthrow Liam?

Apparently _yes_. Louis Tomlinson could.

"So what do you want me to do?" Harry scoffed.

Liam smiled, and stared out the window for a minute, before turning to Harry.

"I want you to fucking ruin him."

Harry was taken aback, but only for a second. He grinned and kicked his legs back over the armrest, crossing them. Liam never failed to amaze him. 

"Ruin him?" He asked.

"Yes. I want you to get close, seduce him or something, it doesn't matter as long as you break his heart and manage to get him expelled." Liam says nonchalantly, as if he were reading a children's book rather than scheming.

"Doesn't this seem a bit, oh, overdramatic? You're asking me to destroy this boy just because he's your competition?"

Liam grinned. "Why? Are you scared, Styles? Afraid you can't win?"

Harry sighed, he did love a good conquest, it had been so long since the last time Liam had asked him to do anything of this magnitude. 

"Fine."Harry smiled and rose from his chair, crossing the room to grab another drink.

Liam sat down, and bit his lip.

"What if we made this a little more interesting?" The tone of his voice sparked Harry's curiosity once more, he turned as he poured the scotch.

"Let's make this a bet." Liam smiled.

"What are the stakes?" Harry asked, taking a swig.

"You have to make him fuck you."

"He's gay?"

Liam grinned. "No, he has a girlfriend, her name's Annette, and here's the kicker, he's a virgin."

"How are you sure?" Harry asked.

"He's the president of the Cambridge Celibacy Club."

"We have one of those? Wait, are you talking about the CCC? That's what that shit is?" Harry remembered one of their members calling him a whore, I guess there was a reason why.

"Yes, I know, but you should have no trouble with that, you fucked their previous president."

"Sara Gallagher? Oh, yes, though I think her maraschino was popped far before I had my taste." Harry smirked.

"So if you fuck him, you get to have me, as previously planned, but If you don't fuck him..." Liam smiled as he trailed off thoughtfully.

"What?"

"If I win, I get your car." Harry felt a tug of irritation, _couldn't Liam buy himself his own_? But that was the point. He only wanted it because it belonged to Harry.

"Do we have a deal?" Liam asked. Harry was intrigued, was his worth the risk? He smiled, the appeal of this conquest was worth it all. He smacked his hand against Liam's, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets with his pal Zayn :)
> 
> I like to wrote parts to music, for this chapter I listened to Grizzly Bear's "Two Weeks" and Mac Demarco's "Chamber of Reflection"

Harry went to bed that night with his mind buzzing with excitement and unease. But after drinking half of Liam's scotch and smoking the last of his spliff, Harry texted his friend Zayn with the hope of meeting him tomorrow. 

 **Harry** : **hey, can I come to your place tomorrow, need a gram or three xx**

Harry fell asleep before he got a response, still dressed in his clothes with the empty tumbler on his bedstand. 

***

Harry was woken by the Payne's housemaid, Maryse, a large woman with cocoa skin and long dark hair. 

She despised Harry, and woke him up with the sound of the vacuum cleaner. 

He found his phone buried under him. He turned it on and the screen lit up with a message from Zayn. 

**Zayn: sounds good man, stop by tomorrow around noon.**

Maryse ignored Harry as she started making his bed while he was still on it. Harry slid off his bed and marched into the shower. 

 _Old bitch_ , he thought as he stripped.

An hour and a half later, Harry stood outside the dorm building, and smoked the last nib of his last joint that he found in the glovebox.

The more he thought about it, the bet was much needed, things were starting to get awfully boring, and this was just the thing he needed to sate his desire for fuckery.

Zayn was Harry's best friend, the two had met a few years previous at Harry's 20th birthday party. Zayn was the most reliable drug dealer at Cambridge, and he had scored a shit ton of really good spliff, the shit that made you feel floaty and orgasmic.

At that particular party, Zayn and Harry shared a bowl and the two spent the night listening to Arcade Fire and partaking in a ménage à trois with a girl named Lilac.

Zayn was generally a chill and happy fellow, very spiritual if Harry had to say. He was all into the zen and the power within bullshit. He lived on campus in one of the nicer dorms, even though the room was big enough for two or three people, Zayn lived alone.

Harry arrived at Zayn's flat, and could smell the incense from outside. He knocked first and after hearing Zayn's "come in, mate!" He entered.

Harry enjoyed visiting Zayn's flat, the space was open and oddly comforting, with brightly colored rugs and tapestries. There was a small hookah bar next to the window that Harry made use of several times. Zayn's bed, well, mattress lied under his large window, covered in a black comforter and matching pillows. The place was very clean and well kept, with a relaxing and calming aura. If you were to imagine the inside of a genie's lamp, it'd probably look similar to Zayn's flat.

Zayn was a collector of old vinyls which he kept in antique wooden cartons beside his turntable. The Weeknd played quietly in the background.

"Harold, what do I owe the pleasure?" Zayn's voice carried like smoke as he chuckled. 

Harry followed the sound and discovered Zayn on the couch, lazily holding his hookah.

Zayn was obscenely beautiful for a male, with sharp cheekbones and a fine bone structure. His skin was a light caramel brown, decorated with tattoos. His hair was longer and a bit wispy and messy, but not unappealingly so. His smile was bright and caring, and it always lit up his burning amber eyes. He looked like some kind of Arab prince, or perhaps Aladdin. He wore a tight fitting black t-shirt and joggers, and he still could put a Gucci model to shame.

Harry hadn't noticed it till now, but Zayn's pet snake, Hendrix, was curled around his forearm like some kind of Amazonian arm band.

“I came to replenish my stash.” Harry said, flipping the empty cigarette case open.

Zayn titled his head, releasing a mouthful of smoke, his eyes narrowing a small bit. “There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

Harry damned Zayn’s ability to read him so well.

"You caught me, I'm here to gather information on a certain art student." Harry spoke, taking a seat on Zayn's futon.

Zayn smiled slightly, and took the Hookah pen, inhaling deeply.

Lungs full of smoke, he asked, "Is he a transfer from Saint Andrews perhaps?"

Harry grinned. "You know who i'm talking about."

Looking like a golden dragon, Zayn exhaled the smoke through his nostrils.

"Louis Tomlinson? Yes, I do, he's actually a dear friend of mine."

Harry sat back in his seat. "Really?"

It seemed like unbelievable luck, Harry could kiss him. 

"Yes, we had English together. What do you want to know?" Zayn spoke slowly, offering the pen to Harry.

"Everything."

Harry took a hit as Zayn spoke,"Is this another fucked up game between you and pretty boy Payne?"

 _fuck_.

Harry ignored the cool shiver that ran down his spine. 

"Not at all, I saw him around campus, he caught my eye." Harry lied, blowing smoke circles towards the ceiling.

" _Harry_." Zayn's easygoing tone darkened.

Harry played dumb. "What?"

"Don't.. Do anything to him. Louis, he's, he's a good bloke." Zayn said, his eyes showing some new emotion. Empathy?

"I want to know him, invite him to a party i'm hosting." Harry said, flashing a golden smile.

"Party? When?" Zayn asked, petting Hendrix.

"Haven't figured it out, but it'll be sick, and I want him there, I want to introduce him to our crowd." He said.

"Fine. I'll talk to him." Zayn said, getting up to put away Hendrix.

Harry eyed Zayn's English textbook on the floor, and an idea bloomed in his mind.

  
He quickly collected it and stuck it behind him. 

"Alright, well, thank you for the chat, but I'm late for a meeting with Liam, I'll talk to you later." Harry said.

Zayn gave him a wave, and Harry was off, sneaking the textbook with him.

 

***

Harry's plan was simple really. 

It wasn't hard to obtain Zayn's schedule, he knew one of the office interns (Harry was 96% sure she gave him a blowjob during finals last year) and she was happy to print him out a new copy.

Zayn's English class met on Mondays and Wednesdays at 11, Harry would stroll in and "return" Zayn's textbook, and he would introduce himself to the young boy he was to obliterate.

Sure the plan was juvenile, but it was the only way that he could naturally meet the boy, he didn't want to raise suspicion by happening to bump into him in the art department, especially since, as Liam lovingly pointed out, Harry didn't fraternize with that crowd.

It was almost too easy, but then again, he still had to gain Louis' trust and seduce the poor fuck and convince him to let Harry fuck him.

So in a way, it was progress.

Harry stood outside the English department that Monday at 11:07 am, smiling to himself. He wore one of his favorite outfits, one that was sure to make Louis notice him: white dress shirt with the first few buttons undone, black skinny jeans, and his lucky brown suede shoes. He even spritzed some of his most expensive cologne.

_He looked fit as fuck._

He strolled into the wing like he was a king and everyone was merely his subjects. The underclassmen girls, and some of the boys (faculty included) couldn't help but watch him stroll past, he was a young god made of gold.

_He's broken a million hearts just for fun._

He found room 345, and knocked once, and waited, hands behind his back, wearing his cockiest smirk.

The door opened to a short blonde woman who appeared to be in her 60's.

"Hello? Who are you?" She asked suspiciously.

"Harry Styles, my mate Zayn forgot his textbook at my flat, I came to return it."

Harry looked over her head, and the whole class appeared to be looking at him. _Perfect_.

"Oh, how kind, yes, come in, i was just taking roll." She allowed him in and he strolled into the room, grinning, eyeing Zayn in the second row, next to a boy who had his head in his planner, scribbling furiously.

 _Louis_.

Harry nearly hopped up the stairs, and smiled at Zayn.

"You forgot your textbook mate." He spoke in his cheekiest tone.

"Thanks, _mate_." Zayn gave Harry a look of contempt, it was clear he figured out Harry's plan.

Louis still hadn't picked up his head.

"Excuse me?" Harry said in his sweetest tone.

The boy slowly picked up his head and glanced at Harry.

Harry had to admit, the boy wasn't bad looking, in fact, he was pretty for a boy. His eyes were a perfect cerulean blue, framed by long eyelashes. He had high cheekbones and a straight nose and a wider, but attractive looking mouth. His hair was a soft brown, straight and combed nicely. Even sitting, Harry could tell that the boy was smaller, in both height and physique.

_This was the boy that unhinged Liam?_

Harry could better picture him flying through London and fighting Captain Hook than he could fucking with his step brother's future.

"Yes?" his voice was kind, damn near jovial.

Harry remembered the plan. _Focus asshole_. "You're Louis Tomlinson right?" He asked, smiling.

"Yeah, and you are?"

"Harry Styles." He offered his hand, and Louis shook it, Harry's dwarfing his.

"Nice to meet you Harry, are you a friend of Zayn's?"

 _This would be so easy_.

"His best mate actually." Harry smiled.

"Oh. That's nice." Louis says, his amiable grin never leaving his face.

"Okay Mr. Styles, we'll be starting class now." professor Reynolds said.

 _Damn_.

"Well it was nice meeting you Louis." Harry winked, and the boy blinked surprised.

Harry strode out, throwing an extra wink at Professor Reynolds, whose face turned pink.

***

Harry moved into Liam's hotel around the same time he started at Cambridge, the dorms seemed too small and musty for his liking, he preferred not to be living in the same building as some of his past fucks, he reckoned it'd be awkward from time to time.

His room was almost as big as Liam's, painted a royal blue. His bed was the same as Liam's, though a tad more pretentious, since the comforter and pillows were gold in colour.

The books on his bookshelf were first editions, and they were worth every penny. Dog eared copies of Jane Austen, Dickens, Wilde, Fitzgerald and Brönte. He even owned a copy of _Les Liaisons Dangeruses_ , which was one of his favorites.

Harry drags a finger along the spines, until he comes to a copy of the Secret Garden. He pulls it out and flips it open.

Inside was his journal.

He made the decoy years ago, when he caught Liam snooping through his things. Liam never really read, most of the books he had owned were for decoration purposes, so hiding his journal in the place where he wouldn't think to check was the best course of action.

Harry carried the journal to his bed, and collected his fountain pen from his bedside drawer with was beneath old headphones and condoms and small tubes of flavored lube.

He started writing furiously, detailing his current conquest of Louis Tomlinson, he enjoyed writing about his prizes, and this one was sure to be his greatest.

" _Harry_!?" A voice called from the hallway.

 _Liam_.

Harry quickly threw the pen back in the drawer and shelved his journal, collapsing onto the bed just as Liam popped his head in.

"Typically, it's common courtesy to knock, you know." Harry said dryly, raking a hand adorned in rings through his curls.

"This is my hotel." Liam retorted.

 _Touché_.

"I was wondering how our little game is coming along." He smiled his rich boy asshole smile.

"I met him." Harry said, folding his arms behind his curly head.

"Did you?" Liam slid across the bed, hovering over Harry.

"Yes." Harry could smell his cologne, he was close enough that he could lean up and kiss the birthmark on his stepbrother's throat.

Liam leaned down and planted a kiss to the skin below Harry's ear. Harry's cock hardened, and he wanted so desperately for Liam's cocky mouth to be around him.

"Good boy." Liam laughed, quickly rolling off the bed, and straightening his collar.

Harry stared at him in disbelief.

"What? You haven't completed your mission. Once you do, i'm all yours." Liam smiled before shutting the door behind him, leaving Harry flustered with his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this so far.  
> So a few things. 
> 
> I have a lot of trouble with writer's block and my schedule, so updates are sort of in the air with when i'll be posting, i'll try to keep things updated every week, so yeah, thank you again, if anybody is reading.
> 
> halcyonharry xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry needs to get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just posted this yesterday and I already had somebody ask for an update, so I did some writing today :) this is a filler chapter, since I'm still establishing the story and everything. I'm probably babbling, this is the first story i've published *nervous laughter*
> 
> Also, I like to write to music so I'll add some songs in the notes for you guys to listen to to get an idea of what I listen to! For this chapter it was UGH! by the 1975, Real by Years&Years and Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve :) 
> 
> IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU READ, LEAVE SOME LOVE IN THE COMMENTS OR KUDOS...
> 
> only if you want to though..
> 
> no pressure..
> 
> halcyon harry xx
> 
> P.s, if yall wanna follow my tumblr, i'll post it at the end :)

This was the first time that Liam had ever made a move on Harry, and it made Harry's head spin like a fucking top.

 _Fucking hell_ , he thought, pushing his curls from his face.

He got up and collected his journal now that Liam had retreated to his own room.

Harry finished writing about what little progress he had made and then proceeded to scribble a bit drawing small birds along the margins. But his mind was still reeling from Liam's advance and he had to shake the thought, and get out of the suite for a little while.

He called Zayn, who picked up after three attempts to call him.

"What?" He answered.

Harry knew by his tone that he was annoyed.

"You aren't mad at me are you?" Harry said, laughter in his voice.

"No, I just thought your plan to introduce yourself to Louis was a bit desperate."  
Zayn said, Harry could hear a bong bubbling in the back.

"I wanted to meet him! What's the problem with acquainting yourself with others?" Harry smiled.

"I know this has something to do with Liam." Irritation was clear in his voice.

"Whoa, calm down mate, I promise this isn't some petty bullshit game, okay?"

Zayn took a deep breath.

"Fine, what do you want? I'm with Niall right now." In the background he heard Niall tell Zayn to tell him hi.

 _Christ_.

Niall was a posh twat from Ireland that Zayn befriended around the time he met Harry. He was loud and brash and he laughed as much as a schoolgirl. The last thing he needed was a damn play date with Zayn and a fucking leprechaun.

"Can I come over? I need to clear my mind." Harry said, stretching his arms over his head.

"Sure." The line went dead, and Harry quickly hid his journal again and went out into the foyer to find his keys, which he found on the mahogany table, with a note folded underneath.

It was stationary from the hotel, it read.

_Can't wait to drive my new car xx Liam_

Harry rolled his eyes and tossed the note into Liam's fishtank, watching with mischief in his eyes as the blue tang cautiously swam around it. Harry grabbed his keys and left to retrieve his car.

***

Harry knocked three times on the door to Zayn's dorm, and when the bastard finally opened the door, smoke billowed out, the smell of cannabis nearly made him high as soon as he walked in.

Zayn was sitting on his ottoman surrounded by a cloud of smoke, looking like the blue caterpillar from Alice and Wonderland perched on a mushroom top. Niall was holding Hendrix on the futon, the snake had wrapped itself around Niall's neck loosely like a scarf (Harry had a brief image in his mind of the creature choking him until he was purple). It was clear that Zayn was far more fucked than he had been twenty minutes ago on the phone, His eyes were now bloodshot, and he stared at Harry with sleepy looking eyes.

"Harry." Zayn smiled from his seat. Niall got up and clapped a hand on Harry's back, shaking his hand the way old men and gentlemen do, firmly and strong enough to break your hand.

"Nice to see you again mate!" He smiled with his million watt smile. Harry murmured a clear half ass response but it didn't seem to faze Niall.

_Why the fuck was he always so jovial?_

"Hello Zayn, I see we're a little, under the influence at the moment, yeah?" Harry cleared his throat of the smoke which was starting to take it's toll on him, making him feel bubbly and tired at once.

"One who does not get entirely fucked up on a day to day basis," Zayn paused to hiccup, "Is not, in fact, living the most fulfilling life." Niall guffawed, slapping his knee like this was the 1920's and it was the best damn joke he's ever been told. He was like a 80 year old man in a 23 year old's boy.

_Fuck me._

It was a tendency of Zayn to turn into a fucking philosopher when stoned. Harry just nodded in agreement, and took the bong from Zayn's hand and took a hit.

A half hour later, the three were watching _Downton Abbey_ , still too fucked up to understand the plot. Niall argued that Maggie Smith was hot, in a sort of grandmotherly way, and Harry contemplated smashing his face into the t.v.

"I wish there was a party tonight." Niall complains, lying on his back, while scrolling what looked to be Twitter.

"Harry was planning on throwing a party this weekend actually." Zayn said casually as he sorted through his collection of records. His buzz was wearing off, and he resumed his irritation with Harry,

" _Siick_. I can plan it if you want, Zayn, could you dj?" Niall asked with the same level of excitement a golden retriever would have when offered a bone.

Zayn searched through the albums, before pulling out one gently and sliding the black vinyl onto his turntable.

"I'm sure I could lend my services." The first track of whatever album Zayn selected came on, and almost immediately Harry recognized it as London Calling.

"I can host it at my place." Niall suggested. Niall's dad was a film director and they had a large summer home about forty five minutes from the university. Because Niall talks more than anyone else Harry has met, Harry knows more about the Horan Estate than any fucking realtor could.

"Sounds good then. Saturday perhaps?" Harry suggested, and his phone buzzed in his pocket, after pulling it out, he found four messages from Liam.

**Liam: where r u?**

**Liam: r u mad???**

**Liam: come entertain me.**

**Liam: are you with that sniveling prick now?**

Harry messaged back.

**Harry: I assume by "sniveling prick" you mean zayn. If so, then yes.**

Harry was just about send another message when Niall spoke up.

"Zayn, you should invite that Louis bloke, he's cool." Niall said. Harry's head shot up, and for once he was grateful for the blonde haired ray of fucking sunshine.

Zayn turned to look at Niall as well, who was oblivious to the fact that they were both looking at him. Zayn's gaze switched to Harry, who let a smile slip.

Zayn rolled his eyes, defeated. "Sure, i'll invite him."

***

Harry left Zayn's with his cigarette case refilled with joints rolled by Niall, who, as it turns out, isn't completely useless, and plans about seducing Louis at the party.

He rode with the wind blowing his hair around his head. He left his phone, buzzing with texts from Liam, in the glovebox. The radio was all the way up, Jim Morrison's voice reverberated through the air, making Harry feel calmer somehow.

He wasn't quite ready to return to Liam just yet, so he stopped by Des' grave just to make sure former groupies didn't leave anymore underwear or shit on his tombstone. Harry barely knew his father, but even an emotionally fucked up individual such as Harry knew that gravestones shouldn't be littered with bullshit from middle aged woman.

But there was none, in fact, all that was on his grave was a bundle of roses and a lipstick stain on the top of the stone. Harry knew it was his mom, he didn't know she was in London. They barely spoke, but the last time they talked, she was in New York planning some American movie star's wedding. Harry wasn't much for emotional shit, but he did feel a pang of guilt for not talking to his mom more, but she had her own life and he had his, it was the way things were.

Harry left a joint on top of the tombstone for his dad, before quietly making his way back to the car.

***

Liam was in the kitchen when Harry came in, snacking on an apple, clad only in his tight fitting briefs. If Harry wasn't as exhausted as he was, he might've commended his step-brother on his choice of attire.

"How's the plot to dethrone Tommo?" Liam quipped, his mouth full of chewed apple.

Harry ignored him, and went to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. Liam stood behind Harry, and put his hands on his shoulders, gently pressing his thumbs into Harry's muscles. It made the hair on his arms rise, Liam knew this was one of Harry's sore spots.

"You're awfully quiet, was there a hiccup in your plan?" Liam snickered, leaning over his shoulder as he continued to massage Harry.

Harry wasn't in the mood for Liam's fuckery tonight. He was on the verge of collapse, sleep pulled at his eyelids. He shrugged off Liam's hands, and uncapped the bottle and downed half of it, before wiping his mouth, and heading to his room.

"I look forward to hearing about your progress." He called, as Harry slammed his door.

He flicked off the light so that the only light came from the city down below. The floor to ceiling windows were Harry's favorite feature of the room, he liked the view, it made him feel like he ruled over London. Harry collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, i'm so sorry for the wait! This past week has been so hectic, I've had a billion grad parties to attend, and zero time to write
> 
> *sigh*
> 
> I was going to post an update yesterday night, but my computer shut down when I was typing, so I lost EVERYTHING  
> I seriously cried, I was so frustrated. Technology is clearly the bane of my existence.
> 
> So here's the update, I hope you enjoy :) I may post another within the next day or two to make up for my absence. 
> 
> Also, follow my tumblr, halcyon-harry, I'll be leaving some song suggestions and stuff like that!
> 
> Much love- halcyonharry xx

Harry woke up early for class the next day, which was some sort of miracle, as it was normal for him to sleep halfway through his class and show up with thirty minutes left. But today he was woken up by Maryse, who seemed to be awfully chipper mood this morning because she was singing aloud, and atrociously off key, to some foreign radio station that was equally terrible.

"Can you turn off that god awful shit, Maryse?!" Harry shouted, his voice was deep and raspy from sleep.

The music steadily got louder, and Harry groaned into his pillow.

_Fuck me._

Knowing too well that there was zero chance of him being able to fall back asleep, he threw off his covers and sat up, clad only in his boxers. He smelled of weed and sweat, his long hair was unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot and covered in crust from lack of sleep. He got up and quickly pulled the pillows and sheets and the comforter from his bed, making a grand mess for Maryse to clean up. Pissing off the maids was Harry's many talents.

He took a longer shower since he had more time to spare this morning. He turned the water up to the hottest that it'd allow before stepping into the shower. The water was searing hot and the shower's jets massaged his muscles which felt stiff from sleep. He combed through the knots in his hair before getting out and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He got dressed quickly, wearing the usual black jeans and a short sleeved button up covered in roses, before he brushed his teeth. He pulled his damp hair into a half assed bun before retrieving his textbooks and his journal in case he happened upon Louis today.

Harry quickly looked about the suite for Liam, not finding him in the parlor, the kitchen or his own bedroom. He must've left earlier than Harry had thought, some trouble with maintenance most likely.

***

On Thursdays, Harry had his Latin course and his British Lit class. His Latin class was the only class he thoroughly enjoyed, and he had the best marks in the class. Harry first started studying Latin as a ninth year to fulfill the foreign language requirement. Spanish and French didn't seem as engrossing, so he chose Latin. He ended up excelling in it, and now he was able to speak it fluently and he made it his main area of study. When Harry first got accepted into Cambridge, George implored him to study something more reasonable, like business. He thought that studying a dead language was redundant and a waste of his money, but after trying, unsuccessfully to persuade Harry to change his mind, he finally gave up and resumed not giving a fuck about Harry, leaving him to study whatever he wanted in peace.

Harry was just as smart as Liam was, the only reason that his stepbrother received more attention was because of his involvement and his clean record. Harry was always in some sort of trouble. Diddling the school nurse, smoking on the grounds, you name it, and Harry has probably done it. Liam was a whole different person on campus. He was the golden boy. He was the smiling, kind, millionaire in the making. Harry was the only one who saw past the façade, not that he cared really. The darker Liam was always his favorite.

The professor let class out early, breaking Harry from his reverie. He left slowly, and took the path through the courtyard to the parking lot where he typically waited in between classes. It was unusually hot for a May morning, and it felt like Harry was walking through boiling hot water as he passed through cherry tree lined paths.

He was considering skipping next bell to take a dip in the pool back at the suite, but he knew Liam was sure to be home, and Harry wasn’t up for any of his cattiness at the moment. He heard somebody swear quietly, and when he looked up, he noticed a certain chestnut haired boy walking down the path ahead of him, his arms full of canvases.

_Louis._

He was carrying several random sized paintings in his arms. He was speed walking, clearly in a hurry. He was struggling to carry all of the canvases, as he had to stop every few feet to readjust the load as well as the messenger bag that was slipping off his shoulder.

Harry smiled, and planned to take advantage of the opportunity. “Oi! Louis!” He shouted as he ran over to help. He quickly grabbed a few of the canvases from Louis’ arms, and balanced them on top of his textbook. Louis offered him a weary, but grateful smile as he quickly readjusted the remaining paintings under his arms, and pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He looked like he was in a hurry this morning; there was paint smeared all over him, from across his forehead, to his arms, and on the plain white shirt that he was wearing.

“Thank you Harry. Shit, I thought I was going to drop those. I was up all night trying to finish one of my gallery submissions that was due today. I’m running late.” He said frantically.

“Can’t have that, can we?” Harry chuckled.

Louis smiled. “Not all. These are actually going to be auctioned for the charity gala next month. I’d feel terrible if I couldn’t help.”

"Oh wow, that's pretty nice." Harry said, feigning interest. He couldn't give two shits about charity. It wasn’t that he was against giving aid to the poor, sick or needy or anything- he just loathed the pettiness of the rich and their true intentions behind giving. Having George Payne as his stepfather meant that he was dragged to several charity galas growing up. Harry realized that it wasn’t about helping the less fortunate, it was about showing off who had the most to give.

“So one of your paintings sold for a fifth of a million?” Harry inquired.

Louis’ face lit up. “Yes, It was this painting I did of my mother’s home up north in Doncaster. She has this little cottage home where she likes to grow her daisies and roses. The gentleman who bought it told me it reminded him of his wife.”

Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Louis was just so white bread; so innocent, kind and fucking cordial. The thought of fucking him up made Harry almost giddy.

They came to the double doors that lead to the art department. Louis opened the door with his free hand for the two of them. Harry’s never been in this part of the university before, but it looked exactly as he would picture an art department looking like. There were bits of art hung all over the walls. Harry glanced through the classroom doors and saw nude models being drawn and students on pottery wheels. Others were painting still lives or sculpting. The halls were clear for the most part, so Harry and Louis quickly made their way to the art gallery.

Louis talked about art as they walked. Harry learned that his favorite medium was oil paint, and that his favorite artists were Cassatt, Van Gogh and Monet. He told Harry about his other paintings we was working on for the gala. Harry followed the smaller boy and listened with faux interest, thinking about ways that he was going to fucking ravish him.

"Here, we can set them here." Louis said, pointing to a spot against the wall where other paintings were. He set his down and wiped his hands on his jeans.

Harry set down his armful gently against another painting of a Scottish Terrier.

“So I talked to Zayn this morning.” Louis said offhandedly.

Harry felt a small wave of panic, wondering if Zayn had warned Louis about Harry.

He remained calm, retaining his poker face. “Oh?” His voice was perfectly blasé.

“He just mentioned the party this Saturday.” Louis said.

Harry let out a breath that he didn’t realize that he was holding.

“I’m not so sure that I’ll be able to make it. I think my mom’s coming down for a visit.” Louis said thoughtfully as he stacked a canvas upright.

_Fucking hell._

"Are you certain you won’t be able to make it." Harry said.

“I’m not sure yet, it just depends I suppose.”

A lightbulb went off in Harry's head.

"Here, I can give you my number, so I can give you directions, just in case." Harry said, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"Oh, sure, what is it?" Louis asked, withdrawing his phone from his jacket.

They swapped numbers quickly. Now Harry had an excuse to text him.

_Fucking brill._

After Louis saved Harry's number, he glanced at the time on his phone screen.

"Crap!" He said, readjusting the messenger bag over his shoulder. Harry watched Louis as he quickly pocketed his phone.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I'm supposed to meet my girlfriend at the library." He said as he took off in a sprint down through the gallery.

"Oh, shit. Well, do you wanna, er, grab a coffee tomorrow?" Harry asked, trying to keep up with Louis.

"Are you asking me out?" Louis asked with a serious tone.

Harry froze, before watching Louis' face turn into a grin. "Just kidding mate, sounds great." He said, punching Harry's arm.

 _Mate_ ? _Did he already upgrade to friend status? This was really too damn easy._

"Thank you again for your help! I'll see you tomorrow!" Louis called, before sprinting off down the hallway, leaving Harry alone in the hallway.

***

Harry sat in his car with the air on high, smoking and listening to the radio. His copy of _Great Expectations_ was lying on his lap, he was supposed to be reading it for his British Literature class, but he’d already read it a dozen times and his mind was preoccupied at the moment.

He was watching students filter in and out of the building, trickling along the same path he had been on earlier. There were guys playing football in the courtyard, and a few students sitting underneath the shade of the trees, reading, or studying. He kept his eye out for Louis, but he didn’t see him.

His class started in ten minutes and he was just finishing the last of his joint. Liam had texted him something about this weekend, but he ignored it.

He flicked the last bit of the joint into a rosebush and locked his car, grabbing his book.

He blew the smoke out of his nose and watched a group of girls up ahead eye him. They were pretty enough, all had long hair and short skirts, a group of freshman for sure. He heard them say his name, whispering about how hot he was, and how he was obscenely wealthy and how he was Liam’s stepbrother. He smiled to himself.

“I saw him walking with Louis Tomlinson earlier. He was helping him carry his artwork.”

“I didn’t know they were friends.”

“Louis is _so_ fit.”

“I _know_!”

Harry laughed to himself, wondering what they’d think of Louis after Harry fucked him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis go out for tea. 
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Used To Be- Beach House (this song just reminds me of Louis)  
> Silver Soul- Beach House (Harry for sure)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So as I mentioned yesterday, I'm posting this update to make up for my absence and because I probably won't be able to update until next week since I'll be going camping this weekend (yay for no air conditioning and mosquitos)
> 
> So I'm sort of shocked by the amount of kindness and support that I've gotten since I posted this story. It's been in my mind for awhile, but I had so much anxiety about people hating it and whatever that I put it out of mind, but I'm glad. I know that it's nowhere near as popular as other works, but I never thought I'd get 500 reads or 30 kudos or lovely people commenting lovely things, It honestly gives me so much hope that I can be able to post my other stories without fear.
> 
> Thank you all so much
> 
> halcyonharry xx
> 
> PS FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR @ halcyon-harry

The next morning, Harry got up and immediately checked his phone for any messages from Louis.

All he got were texts from Liam, Niall and one from some unknown number asking for their underwear back.

So, in all, it was pretty much what usually woke up to. He spent the better part of his morning in the pool, and had Maryse prepare him breakfast. He got out before his skin got pruny, and dried off, returning to his room where he sat on his bed and read _Great Expectations_. He was just at the point where Pip met Miss Havisham when he heard the familiar ping of his phone.

He looked down, seeing it was a message from Louis.

**Louis: hey, do you want to meet at the Grove for coffee around 12:30?**

Harry quickly responded.

**Harry: sure, sounds great!**

***

Harry stood inside the small café, feeling extremely out of place.

Here was this tall ass guy with long ass hair and tattoos all over his body, standing alone, twiddling his thumbs like a fuck. The baristas, a group of giggly college students, and several hipsters typing away at their expensive laptops took little peeks at him like this was a circus, and Harry was a lion sleeping in his cage.

 _So help me god if he doesn't show up_ , his mind snarled. Harry had never been stood up in his entire life, and if Louis Tomlinson was the first, then he’d smash his face into the ornate cupboard full of teacups beside him.

He was just about to get up and get the fuck out of this shit hole when he saw Louis rush in.

 _Thank. Fucking. God_.

"Hey! Harry! Sorry I'm late." He said, apologizing frantically.

Harry resisted the urge to make a snide remark about the boy’s punctuality but decided against it.

_He was to befriend Louis, not bully him._

"Have you ordered yet?" Louis asked him, and Harry shook his head.

Harry wasn't a fan of coffee, or tea for that matter. Both tasted bitter as piss and he had no idea why people even liked it.

 _Fucking aesthetics_ , he supposed, as he eyed a young girl sipping gingerly at a cup of tea, her pinky finger in the air. He gave her a look as he answered.

“No, not yet.”

"Here, I'll help you order." Louis said, and the two strolled up to the counter.

The barista with a bar in her nose looked at Harry with a disgruntled look. Harry gave her the same look of contempt, though he wondered if he perhaps fucked her once. Though he got the impression that she was one of those frigid, feminist types who hated anyone with a dick.

Louis ordered some weird ass mocha frappuccino bullshit with a cherry on top (okay that wasn’t really what Louis ordered but Harry didn't speak coffee).

"What do you want Harry, I'm buying." Louis smiled.

_What the fuck?_

"You don't have to do that, I have money." Harry insisted.

"I know, but you helped me out yesterday, I want to repay you." He said.

 _Why the fuck was he so damn nice?_ Harry sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, I'll take a water." He said to the barista.

"Do you want a Bakewell tart?" Louis asked.

Harry's eyebrows knit together. "What the fuck is that?"

Louis laughed, clearly unfazed by Harry's use of obscenities. "You're British and you don't know what a Bakewell tart is?" His laughter was loud and light and it tinkled like wind chimes.

It threw Harry for a loop. "Uh, no, I don't. But, I'll take one yeah." He said.

And the barista swiped Louis' card and she handed them a bag that contained the mystery pastry, as well as his water and Louis' coffee.

"Thank you." Louis said to the barista.

They returned to their small table next to the window and Louis took a careful sip of his drink.

“So what are you?” Louis asked.

Harry looked at him, confused.

“Your major I meant.” Louis said, amused.

“Oh,” Harry said. “I’m a Latin major, with a minor in English.”

“Latin? What made you want to study that?” He asked. His voice carried no judgement, just curiosity.

“It seemed more challenging than the other languages I could’ve taken, and all modern languages descended from it, so I guess it seemed the most riveting.”

“Say something in Latin.”

Harry smiled, and responded “ _Cor sum ego confringam_.”

“What does that mean?” Louis asked.

“It means I like your shirt.”

Louis looked down at his striped shirt. “Thanks mate.” He laughed.

 _So fucking gullible_ , Harry thought to himself as he took out the cake looking thing from the bag and smelled it.

“Just try it, it’s not that bad.” Louis said.

Harry took a bite, and coughed it up back into the bag.

"This tastes disgusting." He said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

Louis laughed again and his eyes got all crinkly when he laughed, Harry noticed. He looked like a pixie or some shit.

"Here, I'll eat it." He said, Harry handed him the pastry, and Louis ripped off a small bite and chewed it, seeming to enjoy it.

“What are you talking about? This is delicious.”

So maybe Harry just wasn't used to sweets.

It didn't matter.

Harry pursed his lips and took a sip of water to wash the taste out of his mouth.

Louis seemed to find Harry funny, like he always wanting to hear what he had to say. Harry was used to people sort of blowing him off unless they wanted something: be it sex or money, sometimes attention. Louis didn't seem to want any of that.

He was like a fucking Disney princess.

"So why'd you transfer here from St. Andrews, it's a pretty good school, innit?" Harry asked.

Louis looked up, his mouth full of crumpet. He quickly chewed and swallowed. His face seemed to fall a bit.

"Well, my step dad was sick, he was diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer last spring. I came home to help my mom with my younger sisters." He said quietly.

"Oh." Harry said. He watched Louis with knit eyebrows.

"He went quickly, in his sleep, not much pain the doctors told us. I just felt selfish for being so far from my family, so I transferred here so at least  I could be a little bit closer." He said, stirring his coffee.

 _Fuck. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?_ He could tell he was upset, but Harry wasn't good at comforting people. He stayed silent for a minute.

"I'm...er sorry to hear about that." Harry said, which wasn't part of the façade. It was the first genuine thing he's ever said to Louis. Because Harry might be a bastard, but he knew how it felt, losing a dad.

Louis picked up his head, and Harry saw that his eyes were shiny looking.

 _Oh_. He was going to cry.

He smiled at Harry and took a sip of his coffee. "It's okay." He said, offering Harry an unconvincing smile.

"So you've been doing well here, I've heard." Harry said, trying to change the subject.

Louis bit his lip and continued, clearly getting his mind off the subject.

"Yeah, I'm trying to keep myself busy and finish strong." He explained, finishing off the tart.

"What are your plans after college?" Harry asked, sipping his water thoughtfully.

"I'm actually moving to America with Annette." Louis seemed to light up a bit.

_America? Really?_

"How long have you been dating?"

He thought about this for a second. "Three years, this August."

_Oh, this'll be interesting.._

Harry couldn’t count how many relationships he’s destroyed. The truth is that anyone would cheat on their “significant” other given the opportunity. Harry’s been with plenty of girls who would claim they _loved_ their boyfriends and would _never_ cheat- but give it an hour later and they were screaming his name with their fists full of his sheets.

So really, he couldn’t take stuff like that seriously.

Louis smiled, looking out the window, as if he were thinking about her right now, fondly.

_Ugh._

"Do you date?" Louis asked while sipping his coffee.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh.

"Um, _no_." He said, shaking his head.

“Why is that?” Louis asked, his blue eyes bright with curiosity.

“I just don’t.” Louis seemed confused by this.

“But why? I hear girls talk about you all the time.” He chuckled.

Harry shrugged. He didn’t have a good enough reason why he wasn’t in a relationship. He just wasn’t. He was too misanthropic to love anyone.

Louis rolled his eyes at him. “I think you’re not willing to give up your reputation as the brooding King of Cambridge yet.” Louis said as he took a sip of his coffee.

Harry spit out his water into his lap, and he _laughed_.

Real laughter.

Harry was _laughing_.

Louis watched with this surprised look as Harry laughed his golden laugh. It was rare that Harry ever laughed because of something someone told him. This was his real laugh, not a sarcastic chuckle, or a chortle. This was the laugh that not even _Liam_ had heard.

Louis was fascinated, watching the other boy whose laugh was booming and loud, yet, there was something about it that made you smile, there was something about his laugh that made you want to hear it again and again and again.

“ _Brooding_ am I?” He asked, he had laughter in his voice, and he was Louis chuckled.

“Well yeah, you always look like you’re lost, yet you still have this air of royalty about you.”

Harry shook his head. “Well I can’t help my sovereignty.” He chuckled.

“I dunno," Louis shrugged, "It was just something I noticed about you.”

_So he had noticed Harry before?_

***

They spend another hour talking before Louis had to leave for his date with Annette. Louis shook his hand and promised to text him if his plans for this weekend changed.

Harry drove home with a weird feeling in his gut. He wasn’t sick or anything like that. It was just this tangible unease that stirred in his stomach like water In a swamp. 

He tried to put it out of his mind for a bit, and smoked a joint, which helped alleviate the feeling. His phone began to ring, the caller I.D displayed Liam’s name.

“Hello brother dearest.” He said in his typical sarcastic tone, he didn’t want Liam to think he was pussying out.

“Where are you?” He asked, demanding.

“Driving home from the Grove. I just had a coffee with your best pal Louis.” He said, smiling as he blew a ring of smoke.

“Blow me.”

“Anytime, love. Now what did you call me for?”

“I heard there’s a party tomorrow being thrown by that Irish tosser, Niall. Are you going?” He asked. Harry could hear people in the background. He figured he was at rowing practice.

“Of course, are you planning to attend?”

“It depends, I’m meeting with a few of Dad’s business associates, and I’m not sure how long that’ll last.”

“How delightful.”

“Fuck off.”

“Anything for you, my liege.”

“Call me later?”

“Sure.” The line went dead, and Harry continued smoking, feeling the buzz as he turned up the radio.

***

Harry had the suite to himself. He grabbed a handful of grapes from the fridge and ate them as he walked around. He walked up to the windows and gazed about, thinking about Louis.

The sick feeling returned to his stomach, and this time he was able to figure out the reason.

It was _guilt_. Guilt because Harry was realizing that Louis Tomlinson wasn’t the insufferable prat that Liam had made him out to be. Sure Louis was as vanilla as it gets. Maybe he was a little too friendly, too trusting, and obnoxiously hopeful- but Harry couldn’t believe that he had any cruel intentions. He wasn’t purposely outshining Liam. Was it worth fucking his life up if he hadn’t done anything just so Harry could finally conquer Liam?

Harry sat on his bed and thought about it. He sat with his fingers dragging through his hair, clenching his jaw.

His phone lit up, and he looked down. _Liam_. And it was almost as if it were a sign.

**Liam: you have to get more than a coffee date if you want to fuck my brains out xx**

Harry smiled to himself and chuckled. He was set on winning the bet, and conquering Liam. Louis was just collateral damage.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets fucked up :) 
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Pretty Visitors- the Arctic Monkeys  
> Ugh!- the 1975  
> the Sound- the 1975  
> Feel It All Around- Washed Out (perfect song to get fucked up to)  
> R U Mine?- the Arctic Monkeys  
> Cayendo- Deorro (not a huge fan of techno, but it's a good party song)  
> One Dance- Drake (this song reminds me of Harry for some reason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE UPDATE!!
> 
> So I decided to post another update because you guys were patient and lovely with your comments :) 
> 
> Also I wanted to quickly address something. The characters in my story, boys included, are all obviously WAY different than their real life selves, it's a story, and I don't really picture Harry as an asshole or Liam as a needy buttmunch. It's just a story :) I feel silly for adding this, but I don't want you to think I hate Harry or Liam (they're my babies)
> 
> So I shamelessly mentioned my tumblr in nearly every note I added, but i'll do it once more. If any of you guys want to interact with me or anything, it's the best place to reach me, since responding to your comments on here is sketchy. So follow me, and we can talk about the boys 25/8 :). 
> 
> Or don't.
> 
> It's okay..
> 
> Not really..
> 
> Jk..
> 
> Btw here's some pics/gifs of Harry that inspired this story  
> (http://halcyon-harry.tumblr.com/post/145983153413/inspiration-for-harry-in-the-bittersweet-symphony)
> 
> Much love- halcyonharry xx
> 
> Ps, I APPRECIATE ALL THE BEAUTIFUL COMMENTS, YOU GUYS GIVE ME MOTIVATION

It was 9pm, and Harry was looking at his reflection in the mirror for the final time.

He showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He was wearing his favorite black dress shirt. The buttons were undone and the sleeves were rolled up, letting his tattoos peek out. His hair was down and curly.

The party started an hour ago, and Harry knew better than showing up early, especially since he was technically one of the hosts. Liam was still out, and Harry doubted that he’d make an appearance. Liam wasn’t a party person. He didn’t drink heavily, he preferred to walk around and stir shit up if he could.

Harry chased the last of the glass of bourbon that sat on his counter, and looked at himself in the mirror once more. He admired his hooded eyes, his long straight nose and the sharpness of his jaw. He’d only seen a few pictures of his father from when he was the same age, and the only difference was the color of their eyes. Harry’s were green. Des’ were blue. As long as Harry's been alive he has been told that he was a spitting image of his father, or that he was handsome just like Des was at that age, or how proud his father would be if he saw him now.

Harry always thought that last bit was a load of shit. 

Harry used some of his cologne and sprayed it on his neck, and slipped a few condoms into his back pocket just in case he were to get lucky tonight.

He turned out the light and entered his bedroom. He strolled up to the window, and gazed out it. He loved the way London looked at night. It was otherworldly, almost ethereal in a way, everything was more alive at night.

His phone buzzed with Liam’s name. It was a selfie with the words “this meeting is boring as fuck” underneath.

There were no other messages except the one he had received from Louis this morning.

**Louis: hey mate, I won’t be able to make it tonight. Real sorry. Raincheck??**

Harry never responded. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and sighed.

Tonight he decided to take a break from the bet and let himself get royally fucked. He didn’t want to have to pretend to be anyone’s friend tonight. With that thought, he took his keys and made his way to the elevator.

***

Harry would hear the music as soon as he pulled into the long gravel driveway. Niall Horan might be the bane of Harry's existence, but the guy knew how to throw a party. As soon as he pulled up to the edge of the driveway, a valet stopped him at the roundabout, and Harry got out, handing a few notes to the valet, who took his car from him.

“Don’t crash that thing, it’s fucking priceless.” He said. The valet didn’t say anything, but he shut the door a little harshly and drove away.

Harry was left near the fountain in front of the house. He noticed a naked bloke in the water, passed out, with “ _SUCK IT AND SEE_ ” written clumsily across his chest, his poor willy was out and everything. Harry took a quick picture of it and sent it to Liam with a winky face. 

He waltzed up to the door, and the music was loud, and he could see lights through the windows. He knocked twice, and not even five seconds later the door opened, revealing Niall Horan himself, on a hoverboard.

A fucking _hoverboard_.

"Harry!” He slurred.

And he was drunk.

He put on his best smile, and gave the blond haired menace a handshake.

“How’s the party?” He asked.

Niall had the goofiest smile on his face. “‘S all good mate, come ‘ave a drink wit’ me.” He said.

Harry sighed audibly, and the Irishman was too drunk to notice.

"How about later yeah?”

“Alright mate.” He hiccupped, and he let Harry in.

Inside, it was a fucking madhouse.

Harry’s never seen the inside of Niall’s home before, but it’s exactly what any pretentious rich person’s house looked like: crystal chandelier, expensive rugs, mahogany furniture, artwork hung all over the walls, and taxidermied buck heads hung above real fireplaces. But the house was full of people, and the music was heavy. Inside, Harry could smell perfume, sweat, pot and smoke all intermingled together. Girls were grinding on boys and other girls, drinking wine from bottles and pouring them into each other’s mouths.

There were members of the choir doing lines of coke off each other's breasts or off the glass of their phones or watches, and boys slipping each other tabs of ecstasy or bags of powder. Harry knew most of their names from Liam. He saw one of the board member’s sons kissing another boy in the corner and another was lying on the pool table as a boy took a shot out of her bellybutton.

If Liam had been here, he’d take pictures, and blackmail the other students.

Just for _fun_.

Couples made out in public, groping each other as if no one else existed. Harry walked in and people greeted him with claps on the back, hugs and handshakes, some just gave him a look of contempt over their drinks. He felt like a king amongst his people, it fueled him more than alcohol or drugs or sex ever could.

Harry made his way further through the crowd, into the kitchen. He saw Ashley Tiller, treasurer of the CCC, doing a keg stand. Harry took a picture and sent it to Liam to do with as he may.

He found the liquor cabinet and in the back, he found an unopened bottle of Jameson. He took it out and uncapped it, taking a long swig that burned his throat in the most delicious way.

Harry could handle his liquor fairly well, and it took about two thirds of the bottle to take its effect on him. Suddenly, bitter and sarcastic Harry melted into bitter and sarcastic and drunk and a little bit giggly Harry.

He vaguely remembered dancing with two girls with brightly colored hair and short dresses. One of them, Effy, grinded her hips into his, while the other was behind him, guiding his hips with her hands in his hair. Arabella, the one with lilac colored hair, kissed him, and pushed a tablet of ecstasy into his mouth with her tongue.

From there, Harry could only remember bits and pieces from that night.

The first thing he was able to remember was carrying Niall around the party, making people spank his ass as Niall giggled like a little girl.

Then Harry was standing on top of the pool table, and he popped the cork off a bottle of champagne, watching as it flew into the chandelier, and let the bubbly spirits pour into the mouths of those who stood around him. 

Next he remembered being with Zayn, manning the turntable. Everyone was screaming and dancing and chanting Harry’s name as he stood on top of the banister at the top of the grand staircase.

Then he did shots with Niall and the two girls from earlier. 

There was more dancing, this time Harry was more loose, throwing his head back and dancing like some kind of gypsy, Arabella and Effy all over him. 

Then Harry was swimming with Arabella and Effy in the pool, still in his clothes. The girls swam around Harry, looking like sirens luring him into the depths of the ocean. The water was the color of Effy’s bright pink hair. He floated on his back, a joint in his mouth that he shared between him and the other two girls.

He faintly remembers prank calling Liam, who hung up after realizing it was Harry, drunk and high.

The highlight of his night however, was fucking Arabella and Effy in Niall’s father’s office. Arabella was bent over the desk with her head in between Effy’s thighs.

It was one of the _best_ fucking nights of his life.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up in a large bathtub by himself.

His head was pounding and his muscles ached. He looked around for his phone and found it stuck in his boot (???).

He unlocked it, and found 20 missed calls from Louis.

_What the fuck?_

He went through his messages and saw that he had been texting Louis.

His blood ran cold.

**Harry:hhhhello Louis :)) how r u?**

_Apparently I text like a 12 year old girl when I get fucked up_. 

**Louis: hey, how’s the party?**

**Harry: I smoked a lot of mariguana Lois**

_Mariguana. What the fuck even?_

**Harry: *MARIJUANA**

**Harry: lemins and limes aree the same thing rright?**

**Louis: Are you drunk Harry???**

**Harry: That’s affirmmative ghost rider**

**Louis: I’m coming to get you, I’ll be there soon. Just don't drink anything else, okay?**

The message was sent a half hour ago.

 _FUCK,_ Harry thought, damning himself for texting Louis while he had been fucked out of his mind.

He was about to text Louis back when his phone died.

 _"Fuck_!” He shouted, slamming his fist against the tub.

He got up and it was then he realized that he wasn't completely sober yet. He nearly fell out of the tub. 

He opened the door and found himself in another bedroom.

He went into the hallway, trying to find Zayn.

If Zayn was fucked up, there was no telling what he would say to Louis.

Even if he mentioned the possibility of a scheme to Louis, it could all go to shit from there.

So Harry had to find Louis before Zayn could.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry looks for Louis 
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Settle Down- the 1975

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellllllooo my lovelies, i'm back! 
> 
> So this weekend as I mentioned, I was camping, hence why I didn't update. 
> 
> So my computer has decided to be a monumental douche and it refuses to connect to internet so i've been unable to do any writing, so I wrote his chapter on my phone, which I hate doing *sigh*
> 
> Anyway, here's the update. Hope you enjoy.  
> Leave comments and kudos as you please
> 
> Much love- halcyonharry xx

The party was still going on, and Harry had no idea how late it was. He slid his phone in his back pocket and ran down the stairs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

He started asking random people if they’ve seen Louis Tomlinson. Some were too drunk to form an intelligible word, others had no idea who he was talking about.

So Harry kept looking, and he caught sight of a brown haired head bobbing through the crowd. Harry followed him, shoving past people who clung to him like leeches.

“ _Louis_!” He shouted, but his voice couldn’t carry over the noise of the music.

The head continued moving through the crowd. Harry was running as fast as he could, and finally he saw Louis right ahead, he reached out and grabbed the arm.

A short haired girl turned around, looking at Harry curiously, her arm in Harry’s grasp.

“Shit, uh, sorry.” He said, releasing her. She gave him a dirty look and he quickly left.

He started going room to room, peering over heads for Louis. He was pushing through bodies, trying to find him. He looked in every damn room in the house at least three different times.

He was growing so pissed. Pissed at himself for getting so wasted and texting Louis. Pissed at Louis for coming to the rescue. Pissed at Zayn for being suspicious and being friends with Louis.

He stopped himself after he went up the stairs for the fifth time.

He held onto the railing with a hand, clenching his fingers against the wood.

 _Settle down Styles, settle down_ , he reminded himself.

He took a breath and started thinking logically.

If he was Louis and he wanted to find Harry, where would he look first?

He would probably look for Zayn.

So Harry started looking for Zayn.

He wasn’t near the turntable, Niall was in charge of it now, bumping his head with a pair of obnoxiously large headphones around his neck.

“ _Niall_!” Harry shouted over the noise.

Niall’s blonde head looked around.

“Harry Styles! My man!”

 _Kill me_.

“Have you seen Zayn?” He shouted.

“I saw him with Louis! They were looking for you!”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

Raw panic burned through Harry. He felt like he couldn’t take a breath. Fear stung his skin like icy needles.

He went back down the staircase.

Zayn would tell Louis everything. The bet would be off, and Harry would lose his car and his chance with Liam. He felt nauseated.

He went back through every room another time. Nothing.

He went into the kitchen, the parlor, the pool, the greenhouse. He saw no sign of the two anywhere. 

So he went back into the room he woke up in, which he figured was Niall's bedroom. 

He started furiously looking for a phone charger so he could call Louis' phone. All he found were condoms, old headphones, weed and a couple of old titty mags. He collected the weed, calling it Niall's apology for being a fucking twit, and went back out into the hallway. 

People were still dancing, oblivious to Harry and his outrage. 

He had nowhere else to look and he was tired of playing hide and go seek. He paced through the hallway, dangerously close to snapping.

“ _Shit_!” He shouted, he saw red, and without thinking, he punched a hole through the wall.

His hand throbbed painfully. The knuckles were scraped and bleeding.

“ _Harry_?”

He whipped around, and there Louis and Zayn were, holding a glass of water and a towel.

Louis’ face seemed confused. Not angry. Not sad.

_Zayn didn’t tell him anything?_

He felt like laughing. He was out of his goddamned mind.

“Harry, are you alright?” Louis asked, he took the towel and wrapped it around Harry’s hand to stop the bleeding.

Harry shook his head. “Just happy to be alive, Tommo.” Louis gave him a concerned look.

“I’m going to take you home, alright?”

Harry obliged, relief flowed through him.

Zayn seemed to still be at least a little bit sober, but he didn’t say anything to Harry, he just gave him a stern look and looped his arm through Harry’s as they helped him out the house.

***

Zayn found the valet who parked Harry’s car and had him drive it around to the front.

Harry pulled out his keys, but Louis quickly took them from him.

“You’re not driving tonight Harry. I will.” He said stubbornly.

Harry rolled his eyes, he was a halfway decent drunk driver.

“Then how are you going to get home?” Harry asked.

Louis shrugged. “I’ll just call a cab. It’s no big deal.”

“No, i’ll have Liam’s driver take you home.”

Louis didn’t protest as he started Harry’s car.

It was ten minutes of silence. Harry felt the buzz wear off slowly while Louis just drove.

Harry usually didn’t mind silence, but this silence was fucking deafening. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, but he couldn’t, so he closed it.

After three minutes of scouring his brain for something to say, he finally spoke.

“‘M sorry for calling you.” Harry said, lifting his head off the headrest to look at Louis.

There was a pause before Louis shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

There was something wrong, Harry could tell. He might not have known Louis that well yet, but the other boy wasn’t so good at concealing his emotions. He might as well have had “I AM UPSET” written across his forehead in red.

He decided to go a different route.

“So I called you?”

A small smile grew on Louis’ face.

“Yes...yes you did.” There was something in his voice that implied that Harry had said something embarrassing. _Shit_.

“Fuck, what’d I say?”

Louis smiled to himself.

“Oh shit, what?” Harry was growing anxious.

He laughed to himself. “You told me I have a nice bum.”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

Harry smacked his head back onto the headrest. _Bum? What was he? Five?_

“You also called me pretty. Though i’m not sure how I feel about that considering i’m a man.”

Harry wanted to open the door and jump into the oncoming traffic.

_Fucking hell._

“I was, ugh, a bit drunk.” Harry said.

“Yeah, you said that _a lot_.”

Harry sighed. Louis might think he was an idiotic drunkard, but at least he hadn’t found out about Liam and Harry’s game.

The chilled night air sobered Harry up a bit more and he tried his best not to fall asleep.

“So,” Harry sat up and pulled off the towel, the knuckles were cut, but it wasn’t too deep. The blood was mostly dried and was crusted now.

“What were you up to before you had to pick my drunk ass up?”

Louis shrugged. “Not much, my mom fell asleep and I got the girls down. I was just sitting around really. You sort of saved me really.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow. Since when was he the hero? There was something terribly ironic about it.

“What’d you mean by that?” He asked.

“Everytime I’m with them, the guilt comes back.” Louis was gnawing the inside of his cheek.

“Well it’s not really your fault, you know?” Harry said.

“I know, but I feel like it is.”

“You can’t blame yourself because your stepdad died, that’s just fucking dumb.”

Louis frowned at Harry’s cursing, but his face smoothed out, as he must’ve realized that Harry hadn’t meant to come across as rude.

“You’re right. Thanks Harry.”

“Welcome.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet.

***

Louis pulled in front of the hotel and Harry got out.

“I can just wait here.” Louis said as he got out.

Harry scoffed. “You’re not waiting outside in the middle of the damn night, Louis.”

Normally, Harry would offer to take Louis up to his suite so he could try and entice him. But Harry was too damn tired and he wasn’t sure if Liam was home.

So Harry called the hotel’s valet and asked him to ring the driver to take Louis home.

Harry sat beside Louis on the stairs that led to the hotel.

“Thank you, Louis.” Harry said, rubbing his fingers over the cuts on his knuckles.

“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to help.”

Harry faked a smile, which Louis reciprocated.

As the limousine pulled alongside the curb, Louis blinked in surprise.

“Harry, I can’t take a limousine.” He laughed nervously.

“Well it’s too late to hail a cab.” Harry said, his voice full of exhaustion.

Louis bit his lip. “Alright.”

The valet came around to open the door for him. He looked over his shoulder tentatively, before sliding it into the sleek black car.

The valet shut the door, and Harry gave him a few notes from his wallet before asking him to take him home.

The valet gave a curt nod before slipping back into the driver side.

The window rolled down and Louis gave Harry another smile.

“Thanks Harry.”

Harry nodded and waved to Louis as the car pulled off the curb.

***

Harry woke up that Sunday morning at five in the afternoon, feeling stiff and sore and his head was pounding.

“Finally, you’re awake.” A voice said.

Harry opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the brightness.

Liam was sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed.

“Have you been watching me sleep this whole damn time?” Harry barked.

“Of course not, i’m not insane.” Liam laughed.

Harry sat up, leaning back against the headrest.  
He was still in his clothes from last night and he found a joint stuck in his pocket.

“So how was the party?” Liam asked excitedly.

Harry found his lighter in his jeans and lit the joint, watching the smoke rise.

“Fine.”

Liam’s face look expectant.

“What?” Harry asked.

Liam rolled his eyes. “I know you know what i’m talking about.”

Harry shook his head. “Not a fucking clue.”

“Adam, my driver had to drive a certain chipmunk looking twat home last night. Did you fuck him?”

 _Louis. Oh_.

Harry shook his head and laughed.

“No. He dropped me off last night. Got a wee bit too fucked last night.”

Liam growled. “This isn’t a fucking joke Harry. I want him destroyed.”

Harry blew smoke into his brother’s face.

“It’ll happen, Liam. Take a Xanax and calm the fuck down.” Harry rolled his eyes and noticed the bruises along his knuckles from last night.

Liam got up and ran a hand through his gelled hair.

“Fine. But it needs to happen soon, i’m growing tired of waiting.” He said, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Harry took one last inhale, feeling the buzz in his veins. He blew it out and collapsed back onto his bed.

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Annette
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Holocene- Bon Iver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello! 
> 
> Here's the update, it's a bit uneventful :( but it's a filler chapter, and there are some things coming ;) so stay tuned babies
> 
> Just a bit curious, do you like the idea of the song suggestions? I like it just because i enjoy playing the scenes out in my mind. If you guys have any suggestions or songs that remind you of my story comment them! I'm happy to hear it! 
> 
> not much else to add besides follow my tumblr and continue leaving lovely things :) 
> 
> Much love- halcyonharry xx

Harry was more determined than before. He needed to conquer Louis, and he had to do it soon.

Harry’s only question was how he was going to go about it.

It’d be easier if Louis was a girl. Girl’s believe anything they hear as long as you gave them a smile and the smallest bit of attention, but trying to entice a straight boy? Harry had his work cut out for him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. Harry was pretty, and rich, which most of the time was all it took to get his victims into bed. But Louis wasn’t a greedy bastard, Harry wouldn’t be able to win him over with a handful of bills and a smile.

Louis was the kind of person who fell for the old school romance shit. Walks, hand holding, flowers, and kisses on the doorstep. Jesus Christ, he’d probably still ask permission to marry someone’s daughter. The problem was that he wouldn’t even consider sex unless he was in love.

Harry and Louis were surely friends, and he had his trust. Harry would just have to worm his way into Louis mind (and pants) and try to make Louis fall for him.

It was now Wednesday, four days since Harry last saw Louis on the front steps of his stepbrother’s hotel. Harry had texted him this morning in hopes he’d be open to hanging out or whatever, and Louis told him to meet him at the library.

Harry had been in the school’s library only three times. Twice for a hookup during school hours and the third time during a drunken escapade with Zayn and Niall where they all woke up bare ass naked in the sci fi section.

He peeked through the shelves, looking for Louis. All he saw were students pulling books from the shelves, or kids sitting at tables, studying quietly.

He looked around for one of the librarians, and he spotted a girl who was sliding a book back into a shelf, and figured she was part of the staff.

“Excuse me?” Harry said, waltzing up to her.

She was blonde and petite and had skin the color of milk. She was hot, in more of a quiet, reserved way. There was a small golden cross around her neck that Harry noticed with a glint in his eye. She looked at Harry with large brown eyes that reminded him of a baby deer.

“Uh, yeah?” She looked confused.

“I’m looking for somebody who works here.” He said politely, smiling.

She giggled. “I don’t work here.”

_Fucking shit._

“Wait… Are you Harry? Are you looking for Louis?” She asked kindly.

He answered slowly. “Yeah.”

She laughed a bit louder than before. “I’m Annette, i’m Louis’ girlfriend.”

 _Oh_.

“Annette, yes! It’s so nice to finally meet you.”  
He took her tiny hand and shook it. He was being saccharine sweet, layering it on like icing on a cake.

“Nice to meet you too! Louis’ told me a lot about you.”

_Oh this’ll be fun._

“He’s a great bloke, you’re such a lucky gal.”

She beamed, showing a glowing white smile.

“Here, i’ll show you to him. I was just stopping by to look for a book for class.”

Harry followed her upstairs, admiring her ass in her jeans.

“So how long have you been friends with Lou?”

_Lou? Gross._

“Not very long, I only met him last week.”

Annette seemed surprised by this, and they came to the top of the stairs, where Harry could see Louis walking around, carrying a clipboard and placing books in a small metal cart beside him.

“I was just heading out, I dropped some food off for him. Nice meeting you Harry!” She smiled and quietly left back down the stairs.

Harry walked around the shelves, noticing that they looked older than some of the other ones downstairs.

Louis had looked up briefly, and spotted Harry, and grinned.

He was wearing a royal blue shirt today with jeans and loafers. _Loafers_.

Louis was dressed like he was headed to a fucking nursing home.

Harry walked over and smiled to the other boy, who set down the book he had been holding.

“Hey man, what’s going on?” He asked in a low voice.

Harry rubbed his thumb along the spines of one of the books on the shelf, it was so old that the golden letters had faded to the point that it was unreadable.

“Not much mate, just met Annette.” He grinned.

Louis blushed.

“She’s pretty fit, yeah?” Harry remarked.

“Yeah, she’s a keeper.” He smiled.

“So what’re you doing here?” Harry asked, gazing at the small stack of books in the cart.

“Well, we’re getting rid of some of these. If they haven’t been checked out in over ten years then we’re having a book sale to get rid of them.” Louis explained.

“These look like shit.” Harry said, picking up a book that looked battered and had pages falling out. It also smelled like decay and dust.

“Yeah. I’m not sure why our director hasn’t pitched them.” Louis frowned. Harry set the book back in the cart and wiped his hands off on his jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing Thursday night?” Louis asked as he stacked another book in the cart.

Harry was skipping class to spend the day with Liam tomorrow, but Thursday he had nothing going on except being a pain in Maryse’s ass and getting fucked up on the balcony.

“Nothing actually.” Harry’s interest was piqued.

“Well, the lads from the football team were going out for drinks, I thought you’d enjoy coming along. Niall Horan mentioned throwing a party after since it’s our last game.”

Fucking Horan was his savior once again.

“Yeah. I’ll tag along.” He grinned.

“Cool. Niall will be thrilled, he was telling us about the party the other day.”

Harry took a breath, even his memory was a bit foggy.

“Yeah? What’d he tell you.”

Louis shrugged as he scratched a name off the clipboard. “He just said you’re the life of the party. I kind of wish I went now, It looked pretty unforgettable. Do you guys throw parties like that a lot?”  
  
Harry leaned against the railing, gazing down at a kid below him who had his nose in a book.

“Occasionally. Usually there’s a party every weekend.”

“Huh, I’m not really a partier. Guess it’s a little too late now.” Louis chuckled.

“Not necessarily. Come to the next one with me, I promise it’ll be a good time.”

“Sounds good.”

***

Harry went home as soon as Louis was done with his shift.

It wasn’t too late in the day, only six or so, and Liam had texted Harry wanting to know if he had wanted to go to dinner and figuring since he hadn’t eaten real food in over a day, Harry accepted.

Harry drove to the suite and found Liam standing patiently in front of the hotel, furiously tapping away at his phone.

He was wearing a blue dress shirt and black trousers. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, so there was an attractive line of stubble along his jawline. His hair, as always, was neatly gelled and styled in its usual style.

Harry hardened at the sight of him.

Harry gave the keys to the valet, and greeted Liam with an air kiss on the side of his cheek.  
He knew he wouldn’t allow Harry to touch him until he fulfilled his demands.

“Where were you?” Liam asked, as he sent the text, a little whoosh sound was heard as he slid his phone in his pocket.

“The library.”

Liam smirked. “You must be making some pretty good progress if you have the time to do some light reading.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

Harry gave him a look as the limo pulled up in front of him.

Harry always hated taking the limousine. It seemed too ostentatious for his liking, he much preferred driving his Jaguar.

He slid in beside Liam on the cool leather seats, and stretched out his legs onto the seat next to him.

Liam folded his legs and Harry lit a joint. Although they got along, Harry found that being intoxicated made it easier to be around Liam’s mercurial temperament.

Though Liam seemed to be in one of his better moods today, if not a bit quiet.

Harry blew smoke through the crack in the window, Liam wasn’t particularly fond of Harry smoking in the limo, being that the press would eat him alive if they smelled it on him. Being a millionaire in the making and having the news labeling him as some kind of young reckless fool would kill any chance of future business endeavors.

The limo pulled alongside the 7th Street Grille, which was one of the nicer restaurants that was a few convenient blocks from the hotel.

Harry stubbed out the last bit of the joint on the sole of his boot and flicked it into the sewer drain before anyone could see it. The climbed out of the vehicle and sauntered up to hostess.

The Grille was rather packed for a Thursday evening, but Liam Payne could always get a table no matter where they went.

The hostess lead them to a private room where they took their seats. Liam was once again tapping away at his phone, and Harry noticed that he seemed to be mulling over something over.

The hostess took the orders for their drinks, Liam ordered wine, and Harry asked for whiskey.

As soon as the hostess came back with their drinks, Liam cleared his throat and took a long sip of the wine.

“So what’s the progress between you and Tomlinson.”

Harry took a drink slowly, watching Liam’s face. Whatever had been gnawing at him moments ago seemed to have dissipated.

Harry told him everything. From the other day at the art gallery, to the coffee date, to the party. When he mentioned the after party he was invited to, Liam sat back looking pleased.

“The party sounds promising. Get yourselves wasted and make your move.” Liam said indifferently.

"You're not going?" Harry asked.

Liam scoffed. "Of course not. If they do something stupid while i'm there, it falls on my head as the captain. I'll let them fuck their own shit up."

***

The dinner was cut short when Liam’s phone started going off.

Liam set down his silverware, wiped his mouth and glanced at the caller i.d.

Harry watched Liam morph into his alter ego. He quickly left the room, and put on his plastic smile as he answered cheerfully.

Harry’s appetite had since faded, so he chased the last of his whiskey and sat patiently, wondering who it was who called Liam.

Ten minutes later, Liam walked back in, back to his regular self. He sat back down, folding his napkin in his lap.

“Who was that.” Harry asked.

Liam smiled to himself as he cut a piece of his steak.

“Oh. It was just your mother.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Liam play hooky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellloooooo friends
> 
> SO I HIT ONE THOUSAND HITS!!  
> I never thought that so many people would read my story! I know this isn't nearly as much as other fics, but this is way more than I anticipated :)
> 
> Also this is a shorter of chapter, but the next few chapters take place in the course of a day so they'll be longer to make up for this filler chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> So I found a few songs that I felt really captured the essence of my story
> 
> Bittersweet Symphony//the Verve (this was in the movie that inspired this crazy story, Cruel Intentions)  
> Old Money// Lana Del Rey (the old money and wealth aesthetic)  
> Over the Love// Florence and the Machine (this'll come in later ;)) 
> 
> Much love- halcyonharry xx

The last time Harry spoke to his mother was three years ago, when he started school at Cambridge. It was short and brief, almost business like. There was a hug, a kiss on either side of Harry’s face, and a “don’t fuck this up” whispered into his ear.

Really, it was worse than it sounds.

Ever since then she’s been in the States working on her new clothing line and fucking whatever trainer her husband was paying for, Harry’s heard little from her. He wasn’t too bothered by it, he’s never really had a relationship with his mother.

Every now and then she’d send some postcard or a dress shirt from her men’s line.

That was the extent of their relationship.

Still, part of Harry felt vaguely curious as to what his mother wanted, and partly annoyed that she didn’t just call him herself.

Though it was reasonable, Harry never picked up when she rang.

Harry dragged his finger around the rim of his glass thoughtfully.

“What did she want?”

“She was checking when our graduation ceremony was to be held. She was here in London last week, she apologized for not stopping by.”

Harry remembered the flowers and the lipstick stain on his father’s tombstone. So she had been around.

“Anything else?” Harry asked.

Liam shook his head no.

“You ready to go?”

***

The following day Harry and Liam ditched class. Liam wasn’t one to play hooky, but his “spectacular standing” in his courses couldn’t be tainted by missing one day. Meanwhile, Harry didn’t bother emailing his professors.

Harry was more so tagging along, Liam had errands to run and a million things to check up on as the owner of the hotel, so Harry followed him and quietly observed Liam.

Harry was currently sitting in a blue velvet chair watching Liam get fitted for a new suit for graduation. Liam’s father was friends with the owner, and they made the best suits in the United Kingdom.

Because god forbid if he just wears one of his other suits and doesn’t get a new suit for any occasion.

Harry sat and watched him from the mirror, admiring Liam’s build, with his broad shoulders, thick arms and his toned thighs and ass. He thought of fucking him on his bed, hearing him moan and feeling his salty skin against his as he buried himself in Liam.

Harry had to clear his mind as his cock was straining against the fabric of his jeans

So to get the image out of his mind, he decided to text Louis.

**Harry: hey.**

He sent it and quietly sat and watched Liam complain the the tailor that the arms were too baggy.

He got a response almost immediately.

**Louis: hey mate! What’s up?**

**Harry: running around with Liam, you?**

Harry was once again taken back by Louis’ perpetual happiness. He was like a golden sun, always shining and emanating warmth.

**Louis: studying with Ann. What’re you and Liam doing?**

**Harry: he’s getting fitted for a suit for graduation.**

“Who’re you texting?” Liam asked, as he studied himself in the mirror, the tailor measuring across his chest.

Without thinking much about it, Harry told him Zayn.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want Liam to know, he just didn’t feel like telling him and having Liam get bitchy.

Liam made a snide remark and continued berating the tailor about the suit.

**Louis: niice. U still coming tomorrow, right??**

**Harry: of course. where and when should we meet?**

**Louis: i’ll pick u up, no worries :)**

Harry sighed, and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

***

Liam had the driver drop them off at the suite so he could go to a meeting with the investors.

Harry was now lying on his bed in the dark, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers to help alleviate the pounding in his head.

As soon as he had walked in, the bright lights made his head spin, so he retreated to his room, pulled the curtains, and closed his eyes.

He had considered going to Zayn’s, but apparently, the bastard had “company” over so Harry was shit out of luck.

Louis was picking him up tomorrow at around 6, and he still wasn’t completely sure what was going to go down. Except drinking. And Niall Horan was involved.

So really it could go either way.

Harry’s headache was growing worse, so he popped a few of his pain pills and chased it with whatever was on his nightstand.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

He was still thinking about what Liam had said yesterday. Getting Louis wasted and fucking him.

Sure the bet was a challenge, but Liam’s way seemed like taking the easy way out. Harry Styles might be a fucking bastard, but he wasn’t going to fuck someone when they couldn’t remember doing it.

Surely it’d piss Liam off, but Harry could find another way, he knew he could.

Harry’s headache was starting to subside, and he felt like he could finally fall asleep without the ceaseless throbbing in his head.

***

The next day, Harry woke up around noon, and found Liam fully dressed at the end of the mahogany dining table, reading a newspaper and eating breakfast.

“Morning, Harold.” Liam said, setting his paper down to sip at his coffee.

Harry grunted in response as he scratched the back of his neck. He took his seat across from Liam.

Maryse came in and set a plate of food in front of him quietly.

“Thank you Maryse.” Liam smiled.

Harry picked up a piece of toast and ate it quietly.

“So when is lover boy picking you up?”  
Liam said, grinning.

“Six.” Harry said through a mouthful of toast.

Liam made a noise, and turned the page of his paper. “Well, do what you have to do then.”  
He gave Harry the look as he said this.

Harry swallowed and nodded in response.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis attend Nialler's house party
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Gooey- Glass Animals  
> Tennis Courts (flume remix)  
> Breaking Down- Florence + the Machine (this song has gotten me through some shiiit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely people,
> 
> I can't apologize enough for my absence, these past few months have been m e n t a l to say the least. I'll try to explain as much as I can. So in the beginning of July, my boyfriend of a year and a half dumped me and proceeded to tell everyone I know that I was a headcase ( -_-), and I started to sink back into my depression. In August, I entered my second year of college, and things have been better, I met a few new friends and I've been getting back into the swing of things.
> 
> I figured I'd let myself heal before I attempted to write again, I hope you understand. 
> 
> Love you all,  
> halcyonharry
> 
> (P.S hope you all enjoyed your november fifth...i'm a huge V for Vendetta fan)

Harry stood on the edge of the curb, waiting for Louis to pick him up. It was a little after 6 o’clock and it was finally starting to cool down a bit to where it wasn’t uncomfortable and Harry could wear his hair down without feeling he was going to have a fucking heat stroke and having his curls stick to his neck by the sweat.

He was wearing one of his typical outfits, black jeans and a shirt he took from Liam’s room, a long sleeved baby blue shirt that he had unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. He wasn’t quite sure if they were the same jeans he wore the day before (not that anyone would notice and/or give a shit).

It didn’t really matter that much anyways, Harry looked immaculate, as if he were the Greek god Adonis reincarnated. 

He was pacing up and down the concrete stairs, his phone in hand. A few of the pedestrians on the street watched him cautiously as if he were a head case about to run into oncoming traffic.

Although if Louis didn’t show up soon, he might’ve considered it.

He checked the message he received from Louis again for the eighth time.

**Louis: be there in twenty!**

That was sent thirty minutes ago.

_Fucking hell._

Louis did say that the game was right before, maybe it’d run over a bit.

He hadn’t got a text from Liam either, and for the past couple of weeks, he’d been texting Harry from practice with things like:

**Liam: That fucking fruitcake said hi to me, the nerve!**

**Liam: Coach put him on, the fucker is probably blowing him**

**Liam: Insolent twat**

You know, the usual.

Liam had seemed to be growing more agitated these past few weeks, no doubt because of Louis' presence and growing popularity amongst the board members. 

Harry blew out an agitated sigh and leaned against a light pole and grabbed a joint from his cigarette case. Just as he lit up, he saw a robin egg blue Austin Healey pull over to the curb beside him, engine purring.

He dropped the joint in surprise, and the tiny embers splashed onto the concrete, before rolling into the gutter, fizzing out.

Louis Tomlinson drove an Austin Healey.

_An Austin fucking Healey._

“Hey man, sorry about the wait, had to go shower. You ready?” Louis was smiling from the passenger side, a pair of glasses perched on his face and his mousy brown hair wild from having the top down.

Harry looked upon the car in awe.

“This is your car?” He asked.

Louis nodded and smiled.

“My dad left it to me in his will, yeah.”

Harry couldn’t fucking believe it.

Of all cars that Louis Tomlinson would happen to inherit, it was the Austin Healey.

“Get in mate, the guys are waiting!” Louis chuckled.

Harry blinked and slid into the car, the leather seats were warm and soft.

It was fucking _bliss_.

“You into cars?” Louis asked as he pulled gently off the curb.

“Yes, very.” Harry breathed as he gazed about the car.

“It was in my dad’s pride and joy, I got it about a few days ago.” Louis mused. 

Harry quietly admired the car.

“So we’re just headed to Niall’s, do you remember the way?” Louis asked.

_Niall’s?_

“I thought we were going out for drinks?” Harry asked.

“We were, but Niall figured it’d be better at his place, you know considering we won, he's invited more people, but they'll be coming later."His tone took on a cheery quality, and Louis beamed.

“Congratulations, Tommo.” Harry smiled.

“Thanks mate, now, do you know where Nialler lives?”

“Of course, yeah.” Harry said absently as he stroked the side of the car.

“Okay, will you be able to give me directions?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded as Louis restarted the engine.

***

The ride was smooth as fuck and Harry reveled in the entire ride to Niall Horan’s house (he had Louis take the longer route so he could spend more time in Louis’ ride).

Seeing the Horan estate not inhabited by partygoers made the place seem so much larger. In the light of day, Harry noticed the large garden and the fountain, with a woman holding a harp, water pouring out at her feet. The manor was made of brick, with large spires and windows. The sprinklers were busy watering the lush green grass of the golf course.

It was just another way that the Horan family shoved their wealth in people’s faces. Louis parked alongside the other cars of the rest of the football team, but of course since was an Austin Healey, it made the other cars, even the expensive looking Italian ones, look like cheap toy cars.

Louis pocketed his keys and walked alongside Harry as they walked up to the front door, the gravel crunching under their feet.

Harry peered at Louis from behind his sunglasses, sensing Louis’ nervousness like it were a change in the weather.

“You nervous?”

Louis was biting his lip absentmindedly.

“A bit yeah, I’ve never really been drunk before.”

“It’s not bad, Louis. Let your hair down for tonight, have fun with your mates. You’re fucking twenty two, live a little, yeah?.” Harry slid an arm around Louis’ shoulder, feeling the strong muscles in his neck and back.

Louis laughed a light laugh and the knocked on the door using the large brass knocker that was shaped to look like a lion’s head.

You know, because that was fucking _integral_ to the home’s architecture.

“This place looks huge without all the people around.” Louis said absently as he glanced up at the house.

“I was thinking the same thing actually.” Harry said.

They stood on the front porch for what seemed like ages, Harry kicked at a stray leaf with the tip of his golden boot.

A minute or two later, the door swung open, and a bright shock of blonde hair appeared in the doorway.

Harry knew within a second that Niall was drunk and high by the look of his sleepy looking eyes and the small goofy tilt of the smile on his lips. He also reeked of pot, like, enough to get those around him high just by scent that clung to his clothes.

“ _STYLES_!” He shouted loudly into Harry’s ear, causing them to ring as he wrapped his arms around Harry for a bear hug. Harry stood still, his arms at his side as the giddy boy hugged him fiercely, seemingly unaware of his body language.

“ _TOMMO_!” He turned and treated Louis to the same treatment, though Louis, being the unbearably formidable man that he was, stretched his arms around Niall, reciprocating the hug, before Niall picked him up and swung him around excitedly.

Harry was amused by Louis’ fearful expression as he was being jostled about like a doll. Finally Niall set down the smaller boy.

Louis looked a bit frazzled, and quickly smoothed out his shirt and pushed a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

“Everybody is in my dad’s lounge, we were waiting for ya.” He said mischievously, a glint in his sea glass colored eyes.

Harry followed behind Louis and Niall, admiring the decor, most of it appeared to be Irish antiques or artwork.

Louis, who’d been walking in front of him, stopped, and admired one of the paintings, one of a ship upon the water.

“Niall, is this a Joseph W. Carey?” Louis asked.

Niall turned around, with a smile on his face. “Yes! My great grandfather was a friend of his,” Niall slurred a bit as he explained.

Harry rolled his eyes, cursing Louis Tomlinson who was the only person he knew that could name an obscure ass painter from fucking Ireland. 

“He commissioned it in nineteen twenty three..” He recited the details of the paintings origin like it was a prayer. But Louis listened to Niall, and asked him questions, genuinely interested, meanwhile Harry considered how hard he'd have to slam his face into the wall in order to die.

“My father only has artwork by Irish painters hung in our manor, you should stop by one day and take a look at the others.” Niall said, and Louis beamed.

“Alright so where’s the others?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. 

Suddenly it occurred to Niall that he was still supposed to be entertaining guests. “Oh shit, yeah!” He laughed his loud laugh, and the golden sound bounced off every surface of the room, booming like thunder.

“Follow me, they’re all downstairs.”

They passed through the manor, through the kitchen and the parlor where party had been held.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell there had been any parties thrown in the manor it was so fucking clean. It was almost as tidy as the lobby back at the hotel.

Almost.

Being the asshole he is, he ran a finger along one of the mahogany tables, when he brought his finger back, it was covered in a small film of dust. He smiled to himself.

Niall chatted as he briefly told Louis about his father modeled the manor after a famous one in Ireland owned by some fucking duke or earl or whatever.

To be honest, Harry wasn’t paying attention to the story. It’s not like he’s heard it fifteen fucking times.

“Here we are.” Niall smiled.

They were in front of what appeared to be Niall’s father’s office. It was a giant rectangular room with a large wooden desk centered in the middle with a large velvet chair behind it that resembled more of a throne than something that should be positioned behind a desk. There was a taxidermied lion’s head (what the fuck was with all the damn lions)  hung above the mini bar, it’s jaws open in a large, soundless roar, it’s eyes coal black and full of contempt. The wall opposite to that had a large window that overlooked the golf course, and it had large emerald colored curtains drawn back by a golden cord. But by far, the most ostentatious thing in the room was the large bookcase that took up the entire back wall, which Harry had reason to believe was just for show. Harry guessed that if he were to pluck a random book off a shelf, it might just be blank pages. The room had a general air of prestige and pretentiousness that made the rest of the manor appear modest in comparison. Niall crossed the room to the desk, and sat down behind it, and his hand disappeared under the desk, and almost instantly, the bookshelves divided into two, and one of the halves opened slowly, revealing a staircase.

Beside him, Louis stared in awe, while their host owned a proud smile, and Harry was fighting the urge to roll his eyes and leave.

 _For_ _fuck’s_ _sakes_.

“This wasn’t in the original home, something my father suggested.” Niall said.

“This is sick” Louis said, his blue eyes crinkled up in one of his golden child smiles.

“If you’ll follow me.”

As soon as Harry stepped into the stairwell, he was hit with the smell of cologne, leather, pot, and some other unfamiliar scent that made his nose tingle.

They walked down the wooden stairs, into the large space.

Harry had suspected that the basement might’ve been some kind of overzealous cellar full of Irish brewed beer and whiskey. But as they climbed down the stairs, they stepped into a large room that resembled a 1920’s speakeasy.

The walls were painted a dark blood red, and the floors were wooden. There was a stage lining the far wall, with three large silver poles methodically placed equidistant from each other. On another wall facing the stage was a large bar, stacked wall to wall with alcohol of every kind; vodka, gin, whiskey, absinthe, even large rose colored bottles of champagne. The space was alive with loud music (Harry suspected it was the Weeknd, recalling Niall’s taste in shitty American music) , the football team members scattered about, drinking or watching the strippers from the leather couches, or playing billiards while sipping from pilsner glasses and smoking Cuban cigars.

“Look who I’ve brought!” Niall’s voice boomed through the room.

The boys gazed up at Niall, Louis and Harry, and stood up, greeting the two.

“Tommo! I didn’t think you’d make it!” One of them shouted next to Harry, almost causing him to go deaf. A few of the boys clapped their hands into Harry’s or against his back, welcoming him. Harry didn’t know fucking any of them, but he put on his best smile and shook their hands, avoiding embarrassment by calling them “mate”, or “brother”.

As the boys welcomed Louis, Harry got the impression that he was still feeling nervous and out of place. He glanced quickly to Louis, and he looked a little like a baby duck amidst a bunch of lion cubs.

Harry slid his arm back around Louis’ neck, and helped him to the leather couches.

“A bit overwhelmed?” Harry asked.

“You know, I’m a little frightened by how well you can read me.” A nervous giggle escaped Louis’ lips, and his shoulders slowly relaxed.

_You have no idea.._

Harry smiled as he slid his arms over the top of the sofa, “It’s one of my many gifts.” Looking around, Harry spied an open bottle of champagne still bubbling on the table, amidst ash trays and bongs and even a glass mirror dusted with white powder.

He claimed the bottle and examined it, sniffing the bottle and admiring the light fruity aroma. The bottle claimed it was from France, the Horan's clearly took their booze seriously.

“Champagne?” Louis asked, watching Harry.

“Hmm.” Harry hummed as he sipped it, testing.

The bubbles trickled down his throat, sweet and light and delicious. He took a longer swig before offering the bottle to Louis.

“Try it, it’s good, it’s the good shit.” Harry smiled reassuringly.

Louis took the bottle, and took a tentative sip, and his face didn’t contort into a grimace, which Harry took as a good sign.

“Not bad, hm?” Harry asked, and Louis shook his head, taking a longer sip. He wiped off his mouth, and smiled innocently at Harry took the bottle from him.

Harry took another long drink, longer than Louis had. The bubbles warmed his stomach, tasting like how Harry imagined the color pink would taste.

He held the bottle back out to Louis, whose little hands made the bottle look enormous.

“Ever been to a stripclub?” Harry inquired, already knowing that there was no fucking way that Louis had ever stepped within a kilometer of one. Really he just wanted to hear what he’d say. He pictured the doe eyed boy sitting amidst the debauchery and loudness, surrounded by naked women and men with hungry hands. He could almost see the fucking look on his face. Harry stifled his laughter and looked to Louis, who was shaking his head and joining in his laughter.

“Of course not!” He scoffed.

“Why not?” Harry asked, feeling a smile pull at his lips.

“I dunno, this,” he gestures with his hand to the scene around them “just isn’t my thing. I have sisters, I grew up being taught to respect women. I can’t sit here and look at these er, ladies without thinking how they’re somebody's sisters or mothers.”

Harry didn't bother to hide his eye roll this time as he leaned back down onto the cool leather.

“Then what is your thing?” Harry asked, grabbing his cigarette case.

“I don’t know, I’m sort of the stay-at-home-and -watch-Doctor-Who type with Annette in our pj’s type , I suppose.”

_Jesus H. Christ._

Louis’ eyes watched Harry’s hands as they popped open the box and withdrew a joint.

“Is that pot?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded and flicked his lighter and the end of the joint burned, releasing the delicious musky smell.

Louis bit his lip, and watched Harry taking a lungful in, before tilting back his head and breathing the smoke into the air like a curly headed chimney.

One of the strippers spotted Harry, and looked at him with fuck me eyes.

She climbed down from the stage, slowly, wearing heels so sharp they could slit somebody’s throat. Besides the killer heels, she wore only little heart shaped patches over her tits, and a small patch of black fabric over her crotch. She climbed into his lap, her legs dangling over his thigh. Her eyes were surrounded by dark, sexy makeup, her lips were a dark red, and her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail.

She smiled at Harry and keeping eye contact, she gently plucked the joint from his fingertips, placing the thing between her lips and taking a long thoughtful drag. She smiled, and her eyes blinked slowly, and she blew the smoke into his face.

“Good shit,” she complimented, the joint between two manicured fingertips, “I’ll _consider_ giving you a private show if you share.” She winked, and gently slid the joint back between Harry’s lips before quickly getting up, and striding off towards the larger group of boys, methodically swinging her hips as she went.

Harry smirked, taking another hit, when he noticed Louis eyeing him intently.

 “What in the hell?”

“What?” Harry asked, a grin on his face.

“That stri- er, that girl just-”

“Offered to fuck me in exchange for weed?” Harry finished for him.

Louis scowled. 

“Yes, It’s because I don’t fuck with mediocre shit my dear boy.” Harry winked.

Louis looked conflicted, gnawing at his bottom lip again.

“Could I, um, maybe try it?” Louis asked.

Harry smiled to himself, a bit impressed.

He never thought that Louis would willingly smoke.

Well fuck.

Harry handed him the joint, and Louis took it between his index and middle finger, almost dropping the thing. He took a deep inhale and immediately started coughing, smoke erupting from his nose and mouth like he were a cartoon character who’d swallowed a bomb.

Harry laughed and took the joint back, and maybe it was the drugs that sang in his lungs or the alcohol that swam through his veins, but he thought that Louis Tomlinson looked the teensiest bit adorable.

“Like this, love.” He gently brought the thing back to his lips, and drew in a breath, feeling the smoke expand in his lungs.

Without breathing, he told Louis, “hold it.”

A few seconds later, Harry blew the smoke out through his nose, feeling himself grow higher.

“Like that.” Harry said.

The joint was now too small, so Harry stubbed it out on the marble ashtray and withdrew two more joints. He handed one to Louis, who took it and brought it to his mouth the same way Harry did.

Harry leaned forward and flicked his lighter open and lit the end of Louis’ joint. Louis took a smaller inhale hit this time, and he didn’t cough as much, and he blew the smoke out his mouth, looking a little bashful as if he were embarrassed.

Harry laughed another genuine laugh (Louis seemed to be the only one who could evoke it out of him), and slapped Louis’ back, grabbing the boy and pulling him towards him in a half hug.

“‘Atta boy, Tommo!” Louis smiled, and blushed, and Harry was starting to notice the sleepiness in his blue eyes as the champagne was taking its effect.

“Feeling better?” Harry asked him, Louis gave a smiling nod, and the two peeled themselves from the couch and joined the crowd that was centered near the bar and the billiards table.

Being the center of fucking attention that he was born to be, Niall was in the center, getting a lap dance.

The stripper was straddling his thighs, her arms around his neck, grinding against his lap. He was sliding bills in her underwear, a few sweaty looking notes no doubt from Niall’s Daddy’s trust fund.

Deplorable.

Niall was steadily reaching the brink of blacking out, and he was smiling all drunk like and laughing and enjoying himself, no doubt straining against his basketball shorts from the girl bouncing in his lap.

Call it the luck o’ the Irish.

Harry withdrew his phone and quickly took a video, sending it to Liam.

The crowd of boys were hooting and hollering and whistling as the girls wiggled her ass against his lap. Louis was still quiet, but he seemed more relaxed, occasionally laughing and taking a drag in the way that actresses from the 1920’s would.

There was a new brightness about Louis, like a shimmering aura that hovered in the space around him. For once, he wasn’t fretting about an upcoming project, or worrying about his family or about having time to practice for an upcoming game. In the short time that Harry had known him, Louis had always seemed like he was fighting to be the best he could be, the perfect son, the perfect student, shit, even the perfect boyfriend. Harry felt like he was the only one who could see through his facade.

 _Wonder how having me fuck up his life will take it’s toll_ , his mind whispered.

As if on cue, Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and it was from Liam.

**Liam: oh i’m sure the board would loooove to see this lol**

then another.

**Liam: fuck him yet ;)**

Harry quickly typed back.

**Harry: I just got here, dear, give me time.**

He pocketed his phone and turned his attention back to Niall, who’s lap dance seemed to have ceased.

“Lads!” He hollered, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the billiards table.

“I wanted to make a toast to our newest mate! Louis Tommo Tomlinson! Bloody swell kid, innit he?”

Louis’ face was a new shade of pink.

“Cheers mate! Too Louis!” Niall raised his bottle, and so did everyone else. Harry rose his hand that held his joint and Louis giggled.

“Now with that said, since our boy made the winning goal, I think it’s only proper, as Captain, that I pay for his lap dance, yeah?” The boys cheered, yelling and hollering as Nialler slipped another note into the girl’s g-string. She smiled, batting her lashes that were no doubt fakes, and sauntered up to Lou, pushing his shoulders so he collapsed onto the couch behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis sneak off and have a talk.
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Sober- Childish Gambino  
> Super Rich Kids- Frank Ocean  
> Reality In Motion- Tame Impala  
> The Less I Know The Better- Tame Impala  
> Eyes Be Closed- Washed Out  
> The Night Has Opened Up My Eyes- the Smiths (this one reminds me so much of Harry)  
> Paradise- Wild Nothing  
> Lean On- Major Lazer  
> Listen To The Talk- Chocolate Puma (this is a party bop, don't @ me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely people who stick around and patiently wait for updates and give me lovely comments, you have my heart. I can't express to you enough for your undying support and loyaly. As I'm nearing the end of my spring semester of college, I find that I'll have more time to dedicate to this story. I should be updating more often, hopefully.  
> Thank you again for the kudos and reads :)
> 
> -HalcyonHarry

Louis landed on the loveseat behind him roughly, he fell back, his face contorted into an expression of surprise and confusion, blinking wildly.

The girl straddled his lap, gently circling her hips into his, sloppily. The look on his face was pure horror, his blue eyes were wide and pleading, he was looking right at Harry, silently begging.

_“Get her Tommo!”_

_“Slip it to her good, yeah?!”_

_“Fucking right!”_

_“Shag her one for me!”_

The boys around him were making a fucking fuss, shouting and laughing together, elbowing each other, spilling beer and whiskey and god knows what else onto the wood floors.

Harry knew that this was all a joke, a blatant jab at Louis’ purity. He knew this because he’d seen similar pranks thrown by his step brother.

Louis had his arms down by his side, moving his face away from the stripper’s tits that were bouncing in his face. He was clearly repulsed, hating it all. Beside Harry, Niall was chuckling, nudging his side with his elbow.

“Fuckin’ hilarious innit?”

Harry was quiet. If it were anyone else, Harry would’ve laughed, probably recorded it for Liam to see, he might’ve even threw a few bills of his own and hollered some shit. But something about Louis, the look on his face, the way he was stretching away from the girl, trying not to look at her, and keeping his arms up now, and off of the girl’s skin like she were a white hot poker, it made Harry’s stomach turn.

Some part of Harry wanted to save him.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Harry was making his move, grabbing the girl’s hand and twirling her to his chest, she looked surprised, maybe even pissed, her dilated pupils meant cocaine, or perhaps MDMA- fuck knows what Niall’s lot had brought.

It didn’t even fucking matter.

Harry took the joint from his lips and stuck it between her cherry red ones. Her gaze turned from irritation to surprise, and she took a deep drag, and exhaled through her nose so that the smoke caressed her face and swirled towards the ceiling. Her eyes rolled subtly.

He leaned into her face, close to her ear. She smelled like cheap perfume and the teeniest bit of sweat. “Give the lad a break, yeah?” He inconspicuously slipped a bill into her hand, dropping a wink.

The girl blinked in surprise, under Harry’s spell.

“Anything for you, love.” she winked. He took her hand and lead her to the stage.

“She giving you a turn, Styles?” Niall guffawed, and before Harry had the chance to respond, the doorbell chimed from the speakers above the bar.

***  

Turns out, Niall invited nearly everyone from the university to the party. Within an hour, just like the previous party at the Horan manor, the lot was full of cars and once again, the house was teeming with partiers.

Once Niall and the others hurried up the stairs to greet the guests, Harry was able to sweep Louis away, out of the basement, into the garden outside, smuggling a bottle of moscato and two crystal flukes under his arm.

The garden outside of the manor was really one of the only things about Niall’s home that impressed Harry. The setting sun cast a golden glow over everything around them, even illuminating the pale gold streaks in Louis’ hair. Most of the garden was occupied by flowers, grown by Niall’s mother. Roses, Catmints, Foxgloves, Peonies, and even hanging Wisteria, all flowers Harry knew from the times he spent with his grandmother in Holmes Chapel as a child.

Harry plucked a peony and started stripping it of its petals, watching them leave a trail of pink behind him and Louis.

The air had gotten even cooler since they last were outside, so much so that Louis rolled down his sleeves, now wrinkled from having been pushed up to his elbows. Harry didn’t bother to push Louis to talk, it was clear by the look on his face that he was frazzled, if not a bit embarrassed, which could only be made worse due to the alcohol and marijuana.

The two quietly made their way through the lush garden, finding their way to a stone path that lead down to the small pond that surrounded the golf course. Harry sat himself down on the rough grass, observing Louis who was standing at the water’s edge, gazing at the murky, undisturbed pond that was reflecting the light of the orange sherbert sunset. Harry popped the cork on the moscato and poured the glimmering liquid into the two glasses.

“Thank you.” Louis’ voice was quiet, nearly inaudible with the sound of music that emanated from the manor.

“What for?” Harry asked quietly.

“Getting t-that strip- that girl off, off of me.” His words were starting to slur.

Harry shrugged, downing his glass in one single drink, the sweet wine left a pleasant taste on his tongue. “S’ nothing.”

Louis turned and faced Harry, and walked up and sat beside him, leaning back on the palms of his hands. His eyes were sleepy looking, making his baby blue eyes look like a deeper azure. Harry offered the other glass, and Louis took it, nodding his head before quickly chugging it.

“They-they were l-laughing at me, weren’t they? N-Niall and the guys I mean.”

Harry paused, unsure of what to say. “I don’t think they’re really making fun of you per say. Niall’s a raucous imbecile, but he’s not malicious. If anything, he’s trying to corrupt you.”

Louis chuckled, his face turning towards the moon. “He’s m-my very own Lord H-Henry then I suppose.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

The other boy turned to face him, a goofy and sad smile still playing at his lips. “ _A Picture of Dorian Gray_?”

Harry laughed, a small part of him impressed that Louis had read one of his all time favorite novels.

“Wouldn’t I be Lord Henry? Since I’m the selfish, complacent aristocrat?”

Louis laughed, and shook his head. “N-not in the slightest, I don’t, I don’t think you’re any of those things. But you do have his g-guile and charm. If anything, you’re more like Basil.”

A smirk pulled at Harry’s lips, the alcohol putting him in a lovely stupor. “Guile and charm? Do you think I’m charming, Louis Tomlinson?”

Immediately, Louis’ cheeks burned a hot pink color, and Harry erupted into a fit of laughter.

Louis started to laugh too, matching him in his mirth.

 

Then out of nowhere, Louis took the glass and chucked it into the pond, disrupting the placid waters, making a bloop sound as it hit the water and slowly sank. He took the bottle and took a swig of it from the bottle, somehow managing to pour some on himself, his wet shirt now clinging to the soft muscles beneath his skin.

Harry noticed the dreamy look in his eyes, and how his cheeks were now a perpetual pink, his hair falling into his eyes. It was longer, Harry now realized, curling about his ears. He was close enough to see the small freckles that peppered his nose and cheeks, and the starbursts in his eyes, brightened by the falling sun and framed by long thick eyelashes. His lips were a light shade of pink, and his teeth were straight.

 _Louis Tomlinson is sort of beautiful,_ Harry thought to himself. He didn’t realize how close he was leaning towards the other boy until Louis looked up, and Harry flinched away, damning himself for being so careless.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Louis asked, concern leaking into his voice.

Harry nodded, his mind was working slow, as if it were smothered in gooey molasses.

Louis gazed down at Harry’s wrist, at the small line of ink that was hidden beneath Harry’s watch.

“What does t-that say?” He asked.

Harry raised his hand, and slowly undid the clasp on his watch, letting it slip further down his arm, revealing the small words on his wrist.

I CAN’T CHANGE.

“ _I can’t change_?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, I got it w-when I was eighteen.” Harry explained.

“Why?” Louis asked, taking another sip of the wine.

“My dad died when I was young, and I guess maybe he knew what I was before I did. I liked playing with girls, I loved gardening and reading, all things my dad thought were feminine. He used to say to my mom, ‘get that boy a football or he’ll grow up to be a fag’. He tried so hard to make me like more inherently masculine things, and I would cry and he’d tell me not to be such a girl. When he died, I felt like I’d let him down, I realize that’s fucked now, I can’t help how I am, I can’t change.” Harry felt the familiar sting in his chest whenever he thought about his father, like he’d pulled a muscle in the center of his torso.

“So you’re...gay?” Louis asked slowly, without judgement, just curiosity.

Harry shrugged. “Bisexual. I’ve fucked around with girls, I’ve fucked around with guys. I just like… people.” It was the first time he’s said it aloud, and it felt weird in his mouth, like he’d sucked on cotton.

He looked to Louis who looked calm.

As if he could hear his thoughts, he asked, “Have you said that to anyone before?”

Harry shook his head, and Louis gave him a small intoxicated smile.

“I’m glad you told me.”

“Yeah.” Harry said, and he was thankful that Louis was drunk as shit, otherwise, he would’ve been able to notice in Harry’s demeanor. How the golden mask of charm had slipped from his face. He composed himself, damning himself for drinking himself into honesty.

“Why did you stop that stripper?” Louis asked suddenly, breaking Harry’s reverie. 

“Because you didn’t look like you were enjoying it.” Harry said coolly, grateful for the subject change.

“Was it that obvious?” Louis asked, laughter in his voice.

“You looked like you’d rather have your cock stuck in a blender, mate.” Harry said, filling his glass back up.

Then the space around them was filled with Louis’ laughter, loud and endearing and stupidly contagious. Harry felt his own smile pulling at his lips, and soon he was starting to laugh along with him. He could tell that Louis was royally fucked, his laugh was different, uninhibited Harry thought. It sounded louder, more giddy. It made his eyes crinkle in strange, but not unattractive way.

“I like your laugh Harold.” Louis giggled, laying back onto the grass, a hand laid across his belly.

Harry smiled a quiet little smile to himself, one that Louis wouldn’t be able to see. It was a compliment he’s heard before, from the maids at his home, from the elderly relatives growing up, and from the cradle robbing friends of Anne’s whom eyed Harry as fresh meat. But for some strange reason, it meant more coming from Louis Tomlinson, like it was genuine. Louis was always genuine.

Harry refilled his glass with the moscato and took another sip. “Thank you lad, I appreciate it.” He smiled.

Louis slowly opened his eyes, and stared with such ferocity at the sky that Harry thought that perhaps he was staring right through the dark blanket of stars, right into the universe.

“Why are we friends Harry?” His tone got serious, but his gaze never left the sky. For a second, another surge of panic rolled through Harry's body.

“Well, I don’t know, I suppose you seem like you’re worth my company and time.” Harry sipped at his drink, hoping his tone wouldn’t give him away. It was impossible to tell when Louis was intoxicated.

“I don’t know why.”

“You don’t have to know why, mate.”

“But I want to know.” Louis tilted his head slowly, his eyes were sleepy and his long eyelashes cast a shadow across his cheeks as he blinked.

Harry wanted to give him an answer, one that’d sate his drunken friend’s curiosity. He wanted to lie, to tell Louis that he had seen his artwork in the gallery and demanded to befriend the artist or to say that Niall had said he was a good lad. But the lies tasted bitter in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to speak them.

 “I just wanted to.” He smiled, but he knew that it wasn’t convincing. Luckily Louis had his eyes closed.

“I wanted to be your friend too.” Louis whispered quietly.

Harry's chest throbbed painfully.

“Do you want to stay out here a bit?” Harry asked him.

“Yes.”

Harry lied down beside Louis, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, seeing another message from Liam.

**Liam: where are you?**

Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t stupid, he knew it was guilt, guilt because a part of him actually liked Louis Tomlinson, and the thought of hurting him hurt him in a sort of bizarre way. It’d been years since Harry had felt this emotion, and the slow burn it produced in him. He tried to justify his actions, he told himself that maybe this was the thing Louis’ life needed. Fuck him up, and it could be the catalyst to help him to be who he really was, to help him grow stronger.

Harry knew he selfish, but he never claimed not to be.

He wouldn’t do anything tonight, not like this, not while Louis was sprawled out across the dewy grass, snoring softly. He didn’t want this to be the last good memory.

He pulled out a joint, and lit up, knowing too well that his lungs were as black as his heart, but hopefully his lungs would give out before he had the chance to hurt Louis.

One could only hope.

He blew the smoke towards the moon, as if he was sharing a smoke with it.

***

Harry woke up to the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his ear. He nearly jumped, swatting the empty wine bottle, which rolled and fell into the pond.

Harry’s head was fucking pounding, and his limbs felt dead.

He retrieved the cell phone which was still ringing loudly and saw, without surprise that it was Liam calling. He pressed “ _end_ ” so that the shrill ringing quickly ceased, and he thrusted the damn thing back into his pocket, but not before noticing the fourteen messages on the homescreen.

Beside him, Louis woke up, his eyes sleepy,looking confused.

“Why are we outside?” Louis asked, sleepily, there was a faint slur still in his voice.

“We went for a walk, remember?” Harry said.

“That’s right.”

Harry collected his keys and cigarette case and quickly stowed them in his pockets.

“Do you want to go back now? How are you feeling?” Harry asked.

Louis sat up slowly, rubbing his head. There were small indentations of grass in his cheeks, barely visible in the darkness.

 “Yeah, I suppose we should find Niall.” Harry helped Louis up, and the two found their way back to the house using the flashlight on Harry’s phone.

Unsurprisingly, the party was still going on, even though it was nearing 3 am. As they grew closer to the house, they could hear the music, and even from where they stood, the bass was loud enough to make their teeth vibrate. They quickly walked to the back of the house, climbing over the small stone wall, and landing onto the patio. The back door was unlocked, and the two climbed back inside.

Inside, the music was even louder, and Harry figured Zayn must’ve been here, it sounded distinctly like his own. In the short amount of time since Louis and Harry had slipped away, the manor had once again transformed into a rave.

Just like the last party Harry had attended at the Horan manor, the place was surrounded by booze, recreational drugs, inebriated partygoers and all the euphoric elaborance that followed a party thrown by Niall Horan. Harry spotted familiar faces, either chatting up other attendees, or carelessly dancing to the music that blasted through Niall’s state of the art sound systems. One glance towards the top of the stairwell had confirmed Harry’s suspicions that once again, Zayn was dj-ing the party.

As they entered the foyer, Louis gasped.

Harry quickly turned, and saw what he was gazing upon.

“Is- that?” Louis began.

Harry let out a laugh, “It appears so.”

About twenty feet away, Sara Gallagher from the CCC pouring out white powder from the inside of her cross necklace onto the surface of her friend’s chest.

Harry scoffed, and couldn’t help but laugh at Louis exasperation.

“You’ll see a lot of that here, Tommo.” Harry said, moving on through the crowd.

“I just can’t believe it, she always seemed so..” He searched for the word.

“Devout?” Harry offered sarcastically.

“I was going to say grounded.” Louis said, giving Harry a reproachful look.

Harry smirked at Louis, “Sure you were.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but let out a laugh.

Then Harry spotted Niall on top of one of the antique mahogany tables, now dressed in a violet button up, pouring champagne over a tower of glasses.

“Do you want a glass?” Harry asked him.

Louis shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough of the stuff for a lifetime, I could do a beer.”

Harry smiled, and went off to the kitchen to fetch them both a beer.

He felt his phone vibrate again in his pocket, and it was another message from Liam.

**Liam: hey**

**Liam: did you fuck him?**

**Liam: Harry.**

**Liam: You better not be going back on the deal**

**Liam: Louis Tomlinson is a deplorable menace and you need to take him out, or I will.**

**Liam: God fuck’s sakes Harold.**

**Liam: Answer.**

**Liam: Your.**

**Liam: Phone.**

**Liam: where the fuck are you?**

**Liam: If you haven’t made any significant progress since we’ve last spoken I’m going to consider this a loss on your part.**

**Liam: you better not be going soft on me. Remember, i'm the only one you have.**

**Liam:** **Harry.**

**Liam: You better have a good fucking reason for not answering me**

 

Fear seeped through Harry’s veins like poison as he glanced at the last text Liam had sent.

 

**Liam: i’m on my way**


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis learns a bit about Harry. 
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> Talk Show Host- Radiohead  
> The Night Has Opened Up My Eyes- the Smiths  
> Five to One- the Doors  
> Don't Wanna Fight- Alabama Shakes

Fear seeped through Harry’s veins like venom. His body grew cold then hot, and his skin prickled, goosebumps rising over his arms.

There was no telling what Liam would do, what he would say. With most of Cambridge’s students in attendance, anything that Liam would do or say would no doubt spread to to the entire university within an hour. And if Liam outed their deal, Louis could conceivably out Harry.

But even Harry knew that that was far fetched, but nevertheless, he needed to get Louis out before his brother could intervene.

Harry quickly grabbed the beers and went off in search of him. He couldn’t help but think that this was just like the last party, this time, he wasn’t just protecting himself.

He was stopped by a hand, and after wildly looking up, his green eyes furious, he caught sight of Niall.

“Styles! Where’d ya go? You missed it we-”

“I have to go find Louis, he-”

Niall laughed as he wrapped a violet clad arm around Harry.

“No worries mate, he’s with Liam.”

His worst fears confirmed, Harry’s spine chilled, and his skin burned. He looked around frantically, spotting his brother and Louis, near the staircase.

Harry fought through the crowd, pushing limbs and legs and arms, feeling as if he were crawling through molasses.

Finally they were in reach, breathless, his hand numb from gripping the ice cold bottles.

Liam was dressed in a button up similar to Harry’s, but in a sugar pink color, with dark pants. A pair of Oxford’s peaked out from beneath his pants, and his father’s watch gleamed on his wrist. He was clean shaven, as usual, and his hair was unsullied.

As Harry approached, Liam smiled at him with his perfect white teeth. Only Harry could see the perfectly masked fury that showed in the imperfect crinkle near his eyes. Liam was a master at hiding his emotions.

"Hello, brother dear.” He quipped.

Harry didn’t say anything, he just stared at Liam with a perfectly hidden furiosity. He looked at Louis, who seemed oblivious, thankfully.

Harry loosened up, relaxing his muscles, the blood rushed back into his knuckles which turned white when he’d clenched them.

“I was just telling Tommo here that he should stop by the suite sometime, wouldn’t that be nice?” He smiled.

Harry could’ve fucking ended him.

But Harry was just as good at playing nice as his brother. He offered a bright smile in return.

"Yeah, that’d be _swell_.”

"Well, I’m going to go say hello to Niall. You two have _fun_.”

Liam quickly clapped a hand on Louis’ back, and as he passed Harry, he gripped his shoulder, letting his nails dig into his skin. He leaned into Harry’s ear, quickly whispering, " _Do it now, while he’s trashed_.”

He waved goodbye and disappeared quickly into the crowd.

It took Harry a few seconds before he heard Louis saying his name.

"Harry?” He turned and looked down, meeting Louis’ apprehensive gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Louis looked perturbed, his eyebrows furrowing in an expression of drunken worry.

“What for? You look sick, are you okay?”

Harry ran a hand through his wild hair. Louis smiled at him, and grabbed a hand and lead him up the stairs.

“Where are we going?!” Harry demanded, as Louis ran in front of him, dragging Harry behind.

"I have somewhere to show you!” He laughed.

***

“I’m not doing that.” Harry said, folding his inked arms across his chest.

The two were perched on top of a windowsill in Niall’s room, Louis was precariously balanced over the edge, his hand gripping onto the metal trellis beside the window.

Louis had insisted that it was safe, that Niall had once showed it to him, and the two themselves had climbed up the metal bars to the roof.

Harry didn’t buy it.

“ _C’mooooooon_ Curly.” Louis whined.

“Curly? For fuck’s sakes-”

Louis reached over, and gently tugged on one of Harry’s curls.

"You have curly hair. Therefore, you’re Curly.” Louis giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated laugh.

Louis stumbled a bit as he climbed up, and for a split second, Harry’s stomach dropped, fear for Louis’ sake that he’d fall in his slightly intoxicated state.

Harry decided to follow, but not before sliding both beer bottles into his back pockets. He let his long legs fold over the window, he then quickly gripped the metal bars and pulled himself completely out the window. Nearly thirty feet off the ground, the rose bushes beneath them looked menacing, offering sharp thorns and broken limbs if either of them should fall.

Luckily for the pair, they seemed to both be drunk enough not to care and sober enough to maintain some sort of coordination.

Soon enough, Louis reached the top of the trellis, and he reached up, grabbing the top of the roof’s paneling. He pulled himself up, disappearing over the edge.

Harry followed suit, and soon sat beside Louis at the top of the roof.

Louis rose, dusting off his hands which were covered in bits of lichen and moss and then ushered Harry to follow.

The roof sloped upwards gently in some areas, and Harry was careful with his footing, just in case he’d trip and fall.

They climbed up near the middle of the roof, and found a spot that was fairly flat, near the front edge of the manor.

"Niall would take girls up here sometimes, he showed it to me once, it’s a good view.” Louis said.

Harry muttered in agreeance and took a seat beside him, removing the bottles from his pockets, he opened both bottles, tossing the caps aside, and handed one to Louis,who tipped it towards him in appreciation.

The scratchy surface of the shingles was uncomfortable under his palms and ass, but otherwise, it wasn’t a terrible view. Harry took a sip of the beer and placed it beside his hip.

"I kinda wish we had music.” Louis said after a moment of silence. 

Usually Harry didn’t mind silence, in fact, he preferred it. He didn’t understand the need to fill the quietness, there was something comforting about it, it was reminiscent of the days when Harry would spend time as a kid, sitting in the parlor, reading with the windows open on a spring day, or when he and his nanny would sit and eat breakfast in complete silence.

But sometimes silence was unnerving, such as now, when his mind was fuzzy from the booze and his thoughts were discombobulated and the guilt was starting to eat at him again. Stopping himself from panicking again, Harry withdrew his phone and queued up his favorite music app, and clicked on one of the playlists he had made once when he’d flown to France for holiday. It was mostly old school rock, things his father had listened to, the Stones, Morrissey, and the Sex Pistols, occasionally a George Harrison song. He pressed play, and positioned his phone so the two of them could listen.

The first song that played was by the Doors.

Harry fished his cigarette case from his pocket and withdrew his white lighter.

“Have you ever heard of the curse of the white lighter?” Harry asked, as he lit up a joint, trying to subtly initiate some conversation to avoid the quiet.

Louis shook his head as Harry offered him a smoke, which he now took without apprehension.

"It’s this, uh, urban myth. Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain were all said to have been found dead with white lighters on their person. They also all were twenty seven when they died, and left handed.” Harry said, twirling the lighter between his long fingers.

“That’s disconcerting.” Louis muttered, passing the joint back to Harry, smoke pouring out of his mouth. 

“It’s a myth, I think I read somewhere that the particular brand of lighter didn’t manufacture white lighters till after Morrison, Hendrix and Joplin died.”

“So you aren’t scared of it?” Louis had a playful smile on his face.

"Nope.” Harry smirked, popping the ‘p’.

“Such confidence, Curly.” Harry smirked at him again, observing the joint in his fingers.

“Ah. But I am not left handed.”

“Or twenty seven.” added Louis.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” Harry teased.

Louis laughed and took another drag. A sharp sound cut through the haze of smoke and the psychedelic music.

Louis quickly withdrew his phone and glanced at the illuminated screen. Harry gazed over quickly, seeing Annette’s caller id.

Louis quickly stood up and answered, holding up a finger to Harry and mouthing:

_one moment._

He disappeared over the slope of the roof, and soon all Harry could hear was a whisper of the party that lay under his fingertips, the whistle of the wind and the sound of Morrissey’s voice.

He flicked the last stub of his joint into the gutter, hearing it hiss where it hit water.

As soon as Louis left, Harry could feel the sick feeling in his stomach return. He laid back and stared at the stars, which reminded him of an old quote he always admired.

 _We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars_.

The wind tousled his hair, it felt good against his burning skin. He started identifying the constellations that shone above him. The Hunter; Orion, the big and little dippers; Ursa Major and Minor, the Water Carrier; Aquarius, and the Sea Goat; Capricornus. He spotted others, ones he knew from his father.

When he was younger, looking at the stars was one of the ways he’d clear his mind, back before he had the pleasure of cannabis or sex or alcohol.

The death of his father and his mother’s abandonment used to haunt him as a child. He used to have nightmares, dreams where his father was rotting right in front of him, skin bloated and gray and maggots writhing where his father’s eyes would be. He’d wake up screaming, screams his mother wouldn’t hear when his mother was out partying and fucking her male models. His nannies would coddle him, begging him to sleep, reminding him that it was just a dream. But the nightmares continued, and Harry would lie in bed, staring at the sky through his window, counting the constellations, his green eyes wide open, brimming with tears as he fought sleep, so he wouldn’t have to see his father’s decomposing body.

Harry’s childhood, however, was short lived. After his neglectful father’s death and his mother’s remarriage, Harry grew cold, spiteful, and hard. The thoughtful, yet fearful little boy with big eyes and the cherubic curls grew into a hell raising, insufferable bastard, partnered with a thirst for chaos. Liam was the catalyst.

***

Harry remembered the first time he saw Liam. He was woken by the maid that morning, who coaxed him into the shower and made him get dressed in one of his nicer pairs of clothes.

"Did someone die?” He had asked.

The maid, Laura, gave him a strange look and fixed the tie around his neck. Harry’s face was startlingly round when he was young, but he was still a pretty child.

“Your mother is engaged to another man. The man and his son are visiting the manor today. You _will_ be on your best behavior, Harold.”

“ _Harry_.”

" _Do it_." 

 

“Fine.” His face was dark, and he’d let Laura comb his wild curls into a somewhat presentable fashion.

He was them ushered downstairs into the foyer by Laura, where he spotted his mother and the tall man, and the other boy.

Anne shared few similarities with her son, the dark chestnut color being one, and the olive toned skin the other.

Everything else; the curls, the eyes, the temper- that was all Des.

His mother had her professional smile painted on her lips. She was startlingly beautiful, dressed as if she were with a client, which in retrospect, her fiance was.

"Hello, darling.” She cooed, kissing her son on either side of his face, her cool red lips barely grazing his cheeks. She let him go, turning him around to face the others.

"Harry, honey, this is my fiance, George Payne. We’re going to be married in two months. This is George’s son, Liam.”

Harry stared blankly at the tall, gray haired man with the straight teeth and cold eyes, not paying any attention to the son.

George reached out a giant hand. “It’s nice to meet you Harold.”

Harry just stared at it.

George smiled, but it looked wrong, like how a ravenous dog looked when bearing its teeth.

“Harry, shake George’s hand.” His mother said, an underlying hint of aggression tainting her voice.

"No.” He said simply, and the boy beside George giggled.

Harry met his eyes with curiosity.

“Shake. His. _Hand_.” His mother said.

“I don’t want to shake his hand.” He said flatly.

The smile on George’s face faded and his mother grew furious.

“ _Laura_!!” His mother bellowed. Nearly five seconds later, she appeared, her face white.

"Yes, Mrs. Cox?” She said cordially.

“Take Harry to his room,” His mother turned to face him, bending to his level, her face inches from his “Your insubordination will not be tolerated, young man.”

Laura led Harry out of the room and up the stairs, quickly, gripping his forearm painfully.

"Why couldn’t you just shake Mr. Payne’s hand, Harry?” She snapped.

Harry pondered this for a second.

“Because he looks like a bloody arsehole.”

Laura gave him a sharp smack across his face that shocked him. Laura had always been the one to discipline Harry when his mother wasn’t around to do it herself, but usually it was a spank, a ruler across the wrist, never a slap across his cheek.

Harry was speechless, and stared at her, holding his cheek in his hand.

"Listen you ungrateful shit, you’re mother is trying to help provide for your family, be a little more respectful of that fact.” She snarled, and pushed him into his room, shutting it loudly.

Tears threatened to pour over Harry’s aching cheek, but instead, he wiped them away and tore off his tie and chucking it out the window into the garden below.

“stupid sodding tie.” he muttered, before collapsing onto his bed, face down.

Annoyance crept through him, and he wished that George hadn’t come and his mother wasn’t gone all the time and that his father was alive. He wished he didn’t have to wear the stupid clothes and he wished that hadn’t left his book in the kitchen and wished that Laura was gone.

While he was angrily listing the things he wished hadn’t happened that day in his

head, he heard a soft knock on his door. He wiped his eyes again, and walked to the door, opening it a hair. It was the other boy, with the crisp gray suit that made him look older. But it was his face, the roundness and the chubby cheeks, that gave his age away. He had dark brown eyes, which were warmer, unlike his father’s. He had a mischievous grin on his face.

He extended his hand through the door. “I’m Liam James Payne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Harry remembered laughing at him, which made the Liam’s face fall. “You sound like a doll, a _puppet_!” Harry guffawed, clutching his stomach.

Liam’s angelic face twitched, “At least I don’t sound like a hyena.”

Harry stopped laughing, and eyed the other boy with respect. It was rare for Harry to meet a child who wouldn’t go running to their mom when he would insult them. Liam might’ve been the first child Harry’s ever met to reciprocate an insult.

Harry liked him already.

“Why’d you come up here?” Harry asked, letting the door open further.

“Because Father told me to. Also because I liked how you were rude to him. _No_ _one’s_ rude to Father.” Liam said matter-of-factly.

“Your Father looks like a tosser.” Harry said.

Liam shrugged, and entered the room, going immediately to Harry’s bookcase, his arms folded behind his back the way a grown-up would.

“He can be.” Liam said thoughtfully, and he plucked the _Secret Garden_ off the shelf, holding it like it was a twitching rat instead.

“You read stupid books.” Liam said, tossing the book onto the floor.

Harry stared at the copy, a gift from his grandmother, and ran to pick it up, setting it lovingly on his bedside table.

“Did you come up here to toss around my things?” Harry sneered.

Liam turned around innocently, and smiled. “I wanted to play a game with you.”

Harry looked to the pile of board games that laid haphazardly on a shelf.

“Not those types of games, idiot, I mean a real game.” Harry looked at the other boy confused.

Liam still held a shit eating grin.

“I saw your maid slap you, Father told me to follow you to your room so we could play. I saw her slap you for calling Father a clod.” Liam said.

"So?” Harry said, embarrassed that Liam witnessed the incident.

"I want to have your maid fired.” Liam grinned.

Across the room, Harry’s lips pulled into a smile.

***

That was just the beginning. Harry and Liam’s continued as they grew. They broke things, they bullied kids at school, they stole, getting away with everything. As the pair entered college, things took a more interesting turn; conquests. It began with a girl named Catharine. She was one of the daughters of the board members, earning her a spot on the the university’s student council. She had also been a member of the CCC, and an aspiring lawyer.

She was Liam’s girlfriend for their first year, and she broke up with him, her reason being that she was in love with someone else.

That someone was Harry.

How she had learned to love someone as callous as Harry, was a mystery, but it stirred a deep resentment within his stepbrother, and Liam asked Harry to play a new game.

Liam asked Harry to confess his love to Catharine. To make her fall, then break her.

Harry did it without a single thought, and as it turned out, it was painfully easy. Catharine was a beautiful girl, and beautiful girls were often the most gullible.

He took her to the gardens of his grandmother’s home, and confessed his love. He watched the love bloom like cherry blossoms in her blue eyes as he spoke. Liam had given him a list of things to say, and Harry performed them better than any actor could have hoped to.

And then he took her back to the suite and made love to her, taking her virginity.

Afterwards, they fell asleep, her head cradled on his naked chest. Liam had come in, snapping pictures on his phone, of Catharine, clearly naked, in Harry’s arms.

The next day the school’s website was hacked. An article published earlier that school year, an editorial on Catharine herself, which named her ‘Cambridge’s brightest humanitarian’, was republished on the front page, partnered with the pictures Liam had taken, also featuring some of Harry’s own, including one of Catharine, her head bent over a purple bong.

In the aftermath, Catharine lost her scholarship, her seat on the student council, and she was expelled from Cambridge University.

Catharine had drove to the suite and pounded against the door until Harry had answered. She was a wreck, her hair was limp, her skin pale, her eyes rimmed with black streaks from her makeup. The look in her eyes wasn’t hatred, it was betrayal.

“Tell me it wasn’t a lie, Harry.”

Harry smiled at her. The look in her eyes changed, she knew the truth, but she still looked at him with love in her gaze. He was her Antichrist.

“Tell me.” She pleaded.

“What? That I love you? That i’m sorry. You know that isn't true, Catharine. You were a game. Not even a fun game." He chuckled. 

He watched her heartbreak, watched the tears flood down her face.

It was the first time he ever killed somebody, the first time he destroyed a soul.

And it killed the last bit of good in him.

***

Harry’s eyes burned as he stared at the sky, unblinking.

He heard steps, a quick goodbye and a second or two later, Louis was back beside him."

Sorry about that, Annette called.” Louis was frowning.

“You don’t seem happy.”

Louis let out a sad little laugh. “Always so observant, Mr. Holmes. I think I might’ve promised to meet her and her parents for lunch tomorrow, er,” he glances at his watch, “today. She could tell I’m intoxicated, she hung up on me.”

“Oh.” Harry said.

“I’ve never fought with her before.” Louis said, dejectedly.

"No?” Harry blinked finally.

“Not in the whole time we’ve been dating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s bound to happen right. No relationship is perfect.” Louis’ tone didn’t suggest that he believed his own words.

Louis downed the rest of his bottle and let it roll into the gutter, the sound reverberated through the space.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked.

Louis paused.

“Have you ever felt like you’re supposed to be with someone?” Louis asked.

"Not particularly.” Harry admitted. Louis was quiet for a moment.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, thoughtfully.

"I suppose, but isn’t it my turn to analyze you?” He asked.

"Harry, have you ever loved anybody?” His tone was careful, as if he were afraid he’d offend Harry.

Harry considered this for a second, and he felt a sort of bizarre feeling in his stomach. He thought for a second whether or not he loved his own mother, but that was easy, he couldn’t love the cold, heartless woman. As for his father, he couldn’t have loved him. His grandmother was last, and though he adored her, she had died before he could’ve loved her.

“I don’t think I have.” He said quietly.

Louis looked at him with such a sad look, that Harry wouldn’t meet his stare.

"But why?”

“Because I can’t.” Harry said sternly, his green eyes for once showing some hint of humanity.

“Why do you think that?” Louis pushed.

“Why do you care?” Harry snapped.

“Because you’re my friend.” Louis said, as if it were the simplest answer he could think of.

The guilt tore at Harry’s chest then, burrowing it’s hooks into his chest and pulling.

Harry winced, as if he felt actual, physical pain. Harry tried his best to hide the grimace, and smiled at Louis.

“You’re too good for me Lou.”

“Why do you think that?”

_Because i’m your worst fucking nightmare. I’m going to break your fucking heart and i’m going to love it. I’ll watch you break, I’ll watch your life turn to shambles and it’ll be my doing._

“I just do.”

***

Louis felt like personified death.

His limbs were aching and his head was throbbing painfully, like a disembodied heart.

He was lying on a bed, and as he opened his eyes, crusty with sleep, he spotted Harry lying beside him, his arms folded behind his head.

His face was smooth, neither brooding or disgruntled as it usually was. Louis has never seen him so peaceful.

Louis knew that Harry was pretty, it was pretty hard to not think so. There was something strangely lovely about him, the long lashes that brushed his cheek, his perfect mouth, and the soft curls that framed his sculpted face. He looked like a god, sculpted by Donatello.

Louis felt something stir in him, and he felt like he should turn away, as if he were observing something private.

Luckily at that moment, his phone vibrated in his pocket, a shrill ring cutting the silence.

A text from Annette.

Anxiety burned his stomach, and made his skin feel hot. He could remember little after the phone call with her, he couldn’t remember how he ended up in the bed beside Harry either. But he did remember the tone in her voice, the hurt and anger.

While biting at his fingernails, he opened the text.

**Annette: We’re at the Grille. Please be there at noon.**

Never for as long as they’ve been together had Annette showed so much indignation, and Louis knew it was his fault, but he was still taken back by his girlfriend’s behavior.

He typed back,

**Louis: I'll be there. I love you.**

He had about an hour and a half before he'd be meeting her, so he quickly looked about the room for a pen and a scrap of paper, quickly writing a quick note for Harry which he hid in his cigarette case.

He rushed home after that, and took a quick shower, washing all evidence of last night off his skin.

He threw his clothes, which reeked of pot and debauchery, at the bottom of his hamper and changed into a fresh pair of pants.

As he showered, he couldn’t help but reminisce about his talk with Harry. He was still a bit shocked with how close he and Harry had gotten over the past couple of weeks. Louis could make friends easily, but he had to admit that Harry was a bit different from the usual art crowd he hung out with. Harry was different than anybody he’s met since transferring from St. Andrew’s. He was charming and funny and honest and brilliant, and Louis reckoned that Harry was the first real friend that he’s had in a long time. But there was still something about Harry that Louis found troubling. Louis sensed that there was a lot more to him than he let on. He was like a lost moon, making phantom revolutions around a forgotten sun, wandering ceaselessly to find his mislaid sun. Even though he always emanated a sort of golden light, there was a part of him perpetually shrouded, something Harry must’ve learned to obstruct from people’s vision, to mask. Louis witnessed it briefly the night before when Harry came out to him, but Louis could tell that there was something deeper than that, there was something harsh and awful hidden somewhere in Harry’s psyche.

Though despite the darkness, Harry was still one of the most intriguing and beautiful people he’s ever met.

He was the kind of person you want to write novels about, he was so much more interesting than Louis was, but Louis didn’t mind.

He learned a while ago that there are two types of people in this world: the people who make art and the people who were art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! 
> 
> I experimented a bit with this chapter, by giving you Louis' perspective. I really enjoyed writint from Louis' pov because he's so much different than Harry in my story. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this just as much as I did! 
> 
> Thank you guys for getting me to 2K! I know that's not a super huge amount, but there are over two thousand lovely hearts and minds that have witnessed a piece of my own heart and mind :) 
> 
> Thank you again, I love you guys. 
> 
> -hh xx


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam gives Harry some motivation, and Louis gets a call from his mother. 
> 
> Song Suggestions  
> Pork Soda- the Glass Animals  
> Toes- the Glass Animals  
> Black Mambo- the Glass Animals  
> Carolina- Harry Styles  
> Two Ghosts- Harry Styles

A pair of rough hands shook Harry awake.

“What the _fuck_?!” He barked, still half asleep.

He opened his eyes and Niall was above him, his blue-green eyes full of worry. His blonde hair was disheveled, and it looked like purple and blue hickies were peppered across his neck and chest like beauty marks. The look of Niall’s face partnered with the sudden realization that the spot next to him was empty, Harry’s mind immediately went to Louis. He looked around frantically.

His stomach burned with worry, he wondered for a second if Liam did talk to him, and he could feel the bile in his throat.

“My dad’s on his way back from Dublin, I’m sorry, mate but I need to kick you out so the cleaning crew can get to work.”

“Where’s Lou-”

“He left a few hours ago, something about his girlfriend.” Relief washed over Harry like a cool wave.

Harry smacked Niall’s hands off of his shirt, and he sat up, too fast for his hungover mind, and he felt a nauseating wave of dizziness that nearly sent him onto the floor.

“Are you okay?” Niall asked.

“My cunting head’s hurting.” Harry growled, the bright light burning his eyes.

Niall laughed beside him. “I’ll have Lane drive you home.”

Harry was in too much pain to oppose, and since his ride had already left, he was in no position to refuse.

“Fine.” Harry stumbled out of the bed and retrieved the cigarette case and his sunglasses from the bedside table. He slid the glasses over his face, offering some relief to his eyes that were adjusting to the light.

As he climbed down the stairs, he saw the aftermath of the last night. There were bottles and cans and cups strewn everywhere. Glitter coated the ground like snow, and Harry wondered to himself who in the actual fuck thought to brought glitter to a party.

There were a few bodies sleeping off their hangovers in random spots of the foyer.

And Harry swore he saw an arm peeking out of the grand piano.

The place smelled strongly of beer, sweat, liquor and pot, Harry’s nose wrinkled. The place was a fucking pit.

There were several bongs and pipes laid around the space, which Niall was stashing away now, into a small box. The curtains were drawn, letting bright sunlight in, and much to Harry’s chagrin, his sunglasses still didn’t block out all the light. He winced, the light was nearly blinding.

He pushed through the front door, the fresh air hitting him like a punch in the face. Nausea hit him at the same time, and Harry hunched over, spewing the contents of his stomach all over the rosebushes.

He wiped his mouth, the taste of bile on his tongue. He spotted a bottle of vodka tucked away in the hand of a guy that was passed out near the fountain. Harry walked over and plucked it out of the sunburnt fucker’s hands, and after quickly sniffing the stuff, he took a swig, rinsing his mouth out and spitting it onto the ground.

Harry eyed the poor fuck’s exposed pink skin, and out of pity (and a little out of his own desire for fuckery) placed a boot on his stomach and heaved, sending the sleeping bloke into the fountain. Immediately the guy splashed in, and woke with a loud fit of yelling and thrashing and flailing limbs, water spraying Harry’s boots.

“ _What the fuck_?!” He screamed, looking at Harry.

“I reckon you looked awful burnt. I was only trying to help.” Harry shrugged, reaching for the cigarette case.

The guy in the fountain muttered something that sounded like “ _clucking glass mole_ ” and wrang out his shirt of the excess water.

He withdrew a joint, and out floated a small piece of paper. Harry’s face contorted in confusion. He bent down and picked up the small note, unfolding it.

_Thank you for tonight. I had to go. I’m sorry. -L_

He winced and tucked the paper into the cig case and slid the thing into his pocket, completely forgetting about wanting to smoke. Just then, a slick black cab pulled around, and Harry quickly made his way into it, the pain welling in his stomach.

***

Louis crashed through the door of his apartment feeling completely drained.

The lunch had been awkward, Annette barely looked at him, and refused to hold his hand under the table. Luckily, her parents were oblivious to their apparent tension.

Her parents were nice enough, but they were subliminally hinting at Louis that the two of them should get engaged, and that was stressing him the hell out. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with Annette, he just hated the pressure that came with it.

She’d left him with a quick peck to his cheek, before leaving with her parents without so much as an “i love you”.

Louis drove home in silence.

He thought about calling Harry. He was a good distraction, but he didn’t want to burden him with his relationship problems.

Mostly because Harry wasn’t really the relationship type of guy.

He immediately went to his room and crashed on his bed, reveling in the warm familiarity of his sheets.

He still felt a bit rough from last night, and he was trying to take it easy, at lunch, he had a glass of water, three ibuprofens and about half a Caesar salad before he excused himself and regurgitated most of the remaining alcohol and chewed up greens that had been in his stomach.

He wanted to sleep, but sleep didn’t come, he laid on his back and made out shapes on the ceiling and tried to ignore the fuzzy group of black dots that clouded his vision like an angry horde of bees.

Eventually, he was snapped out of his hungover reverie by the sharp ring of his phone. He rolled over, and grabbed his phone.

The caller I.D said it was his mother, and he answered immediately, fear striking him square in his chest.

“Mum, are you alright?” He asked, gripping the phone tightly.

Even before she could get a word in, Louis could hear the heaviness in her voice, the tiredness.

“Yes love, I’m, I’m fine.” It sounded like she was making an effort to seem better, but Louis knew her too well.

“What’s going on? How are the girls? The twins?” Louis couldn’t help the stream of questions that erupted from his mouth.

He really did miss them, and he hated being away, especially with his mother like this.

There was a long pause, “They’re all, they’re all fine, Lou, Lottie is looking after them. She stayed home from school again.” There was a soft ruffle in the back, Louis could tell that his mom was in bed, nestled no doubt beneath her sheets.

“Mom, Lottie has to go to school, you can’t keep her from going, she’ll get into-” Suddenly, Louis could hear the broken sobs coming from the other end of the receiver, and he immediately felt guilty.

“Lou, honey, can you please come home? Just for a few days?” She whimpered.

Louis bent his head, letting his hair fall into his face. His hungover stomach ached with anxiety.

“Let me pack a bag, I’ll be there in three hours.”

***

Harry was staring at the drywall on the ceiling, making shapes out of the swirling abstract patterns.

He was still in his towel, just having taken a shower, and he was sprawled out on his bed, caught in a strange place within his own mind. He kept thinking about Louis. About what he had said the night before on the rooftop.

_Harry, have you ever loved anybody?_

Before last night, Harry hadn’t ever gave much thought to it. He didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself, and maybe Liam. Liam was never much of a brother, per say, but Harry would be lying if he said that he didn’t care for his sadistic stepbrother. Even then, Harry didn’t love Liam.

What he felt was purely attraction.

If that.

Other than wanting to fuck his brains out, Harry couldn’t really figure out another reason why he surrounded himself with his company.

As long as he could remember, Liam was all Harry really had. Harry didn’t want anybody else.

Until Louis.

Harry liked Louis.

_So the deviant lion befriended the naive gazelle._

Even that sounded stupid in his head. But it was true, nonetheless.

He wasn’t sure if he was capable of loving someone, but he knew that the fondness he felt for Louis wasn’t fake.

Harry leaned over onto his side and picked up his phone, unlocking it.

He wasn’t thinking as he dialed Louis’ number into his phone. He answered on the fifth ring.

“Hey Harry, what’s up?” There was something off in his voice, Harry could tell.

It wasn’t just exhaustion, there was another layer, something he hadn’t heard in his voice before.

“Are you alright?”

From the other end came a throaty, exhausted laugh.

“I’m packing my bags, i’m going home for a few days.” Louis said.

“Why’s that?”

“My mom, she’s uh, taking my stepfather’s loss pretty hard. I’m going home to help with my siblings.”

“Are you going alone?” Harry wondered for a sec if he was still hungover from last night.

“Yeah, why?”

“Are you able to drive?”

“I have a headache, yeah, but it’ll be fine.” Louis said, and Harry could hear him in the background, zipping something closed.

The words left Harry’s mouth before he could think. “Let me drive.”

There was a moment of silence, a pregnant pause where Harry had to check and see if Louis was still on the line. “You..want to drive me to Doncaster?”

“Yeah, why not?” Harry bit his lips.

“That’s three hours Harry. I can’t have you do that.”

“Sure you can. Please.”

“What if you just stayed with me? I’m sure my mum wouldn’t care. I don’t want you to have to drive six hours to and from Doncaster.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Sick, I’ll call my mum and let her know, give me a sec.”

“Okay.”

The line went dead, and Harry swore he could hear Louis’ smile in his voice.

Harry sat up, and dropped his towel, kicking it into the hallway for Maryse to pick up.

He went to his bathroom and retrieved the pair of pink boxer briefs, slipping them on, before he grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and switched off the light.

He began throwing clothes onto the duvet when he heard a voice in the doorway.

“Since when have you had that thigh tattoo?” Liam purred. Harry felt instant annoyance, and clenched his teeth, making the muscles in his jaw more prominent.

Liam entered the room and bounced onto the bed.

“A tiger? How…” He leaned in and stroked the inked skin with a light touch of his finger tip.

“ _Ferocious_.”

This time, Harry’s skin didn’t shiver. “Can I help you, brother? Or are you just here to bother me?” Harry asked, as he folded a pair of black pants.

“Ouch. Why so bitter today? Did precious Louis see right through the facade?” He smiled, collapsing back onto Harry’s bed, stretching out his tan limbs.

Harry laughed to himself. “Of course not.”

“Have you made any move on him!? I swear to Christ Harry you should be done by now. Fuck him and get over it!” Liam snapped.

Harry rolled his olive eyes and threw a pair of socks into the side pouch. “Louis Tomlinson is currently in a relationship with a girl, shall I remind you. He’s not going to bend over for me just because I’m fit and wealthy, brother, he’s some slag like Catharine.”

Liam’s eyes burned black, for just a second, before returning honey brown.

“You’re right. I’m being unreasonable. I’m sorry for being cross with you.” Liam’s tone was eerily calm.

It was cause for worry.

Liam leaned up, and reached out a hand, pulling Harry towards him with the elastic on his boxers.

Harry was situated between his legs, standing over a foot above Liam’s tilted head. Liam pulled Harry’s face towards his, pressing his lips against Harry’s.

Harry had kissed Liam only once, on that night so many years ago, it was drunk and messy and fun.

This was vastly different.

It was cool and calculated. Harry’s lips parted to let in Liam’s tongue, his hands went to Liam’s face. Liam’s hands slipped into Harry’s boxers, cradling his cock, Harry felt his own desire return from the depths, and it burned.

Harry pushed Liam back onto the bed, and climbed over him, hovering above him as the kiss deepened. Harry’s long hair created a veil as they kissed, and Liam’s hand was gently rubbing and pulling, sliding his thumb over and over.

Harry could feel the slow, delicious burn of an orgasm that was rising deep within him. Harry’s lips left Liam’s, and explored the tan skin of his throat, his lips ghosted over the dark birthmark, and over his Adam’s apple. Liam moaned, and increased the pace in Harry’s shorts just as Harry’s hand undid the Liam’s belt.

From the hallway, the sound of the front door being unlocked, and a heavy pair of feet sounded.

George Payne.

“ _Liam_!” The voice called.

Liam’s eyes burned with fear, and he quickly yanked his hand from Harry’s briefs, and did his belt with lightning speed, and fixed his hair.

He looked at Harry. “That should be enough motivation for you. End him, Harry, then you can have me.” Liam rushed out of the room, leaving Harry lying on his side, his cock half tucked in his underwear.

***

“You want to bring a boy home?” Louis’ mother’s voice had changed a little since the hour they’ve spoken, her voice was lighter, still tired sounding, but the sound of clatter and laughter in the back indicated that his mother was at least attempting to interact with her children.

Louis gnawed on the nail on his thumb, “Yes, mum, Harry.”

“Harry? I’ve never heard about a Harry.” She said curiously.

“He’s a new friend, Mum.” She made a sound of motherly indifference, a cluck of her tongue, and gave him a ‘that’s fine, honey.”

After he hung up with her, he called Harry back.

“Hello?” Harry answered almost instantaneously.

His voice threw him off, sounding even deeper on the phone

“Hey mate, my mum gave the go ahead, should I give you my flat address?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be leaving in ten.”

“Sounds good mate, I’ll be here.” Louis quickly texted him his address, and threw his phone onto his bed next to his bag, which still laid unzipped.

He looked about his room, searching for anything he might’ve forgotten before zipping up the bag. He threw it over his shoulder and shut the door behind him.

He locked the apartment door, and went down the stairs, opting to wait outside in the fresh air.

He took a seat on the bench outside of his complex, and withdrew the leather bound notebook that he acquired from his stepfather as a birthday gift a few years ago. The thing was nearly full, and swollen from small sketches on paper that Louis had stuffed between the pages. It became so stuffed that Louis had to keep the thing shut with a leather cord.

He flipped it open to a fresh page, and fished a charcoal pencil from his bag.

He tapped the pencil against his chin, contemplating what to draw.

So he drew what he saw.

He drew his joggers, adding the small smiley face that Annette drew on them once. He drew the small buds that grew on the trees beside the bench.

His preferred medium was oil paint, but he still enjoyed charcoal, even if it did leave a dark film of dust on his clothes and made his fingers dry. Charcoal pencils were a bit easier, less messy, but harder to manipulate for shading.

He was in his art bubble, sketching away when he heard a honk.

He raised his head, seeing Harry behind the wheel of a sleek black Jaguar.

Harry was always dressed like he was going some casual business meeting. Tight black pants and some sharp, expensive looking shirt with the sleeves pulled up to reveal his tattoos.

Harry had a small smile on his face, as he shoved his sunglasses onto the top of his head.

Louis closed his sketchbook, wrapping the cord tight around it.

He went around to the passenger side, throwing his bag into the back. He was about to slide in, when he eyed a bottle of water and the paper bag on the seat, the insignia on the bag said “ _THE GROVE_ ”.

“Oh, yeah, I brought you lunch- er,” he eyed the clock, “well late dinner I suppose.”

Louis couldn’t hide the grin that pulled at his lips as he slide in and opened the bag, revealing two powder sugared covered Bakewell tarts at the bottom of the bag.

“Thank you Harry, this is sick.”

Louis had been ignoring the nagging hunger in his stomach all day, and the smell that emanated from the bag made his mouth water.

He ripped into the pastry, nearly eating the entire thing in one bite.

The food instantly quelled his headache and he relaxed into the seat, feeling at ease.

“Have you not eaten today?” Harry asked, as he fiddled with the radio.

Louis wiped the crumbs and sugar off of his mouth and shook his head meekly. Harry rolled his eyes, and smiled.

“You’ll feel less hungover if you eat, Lou.” Louis unscrewed the cap on his water, and chugged half of it.

“Duly noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> I hope you all are well! I'm finally finished with my sophomore year of uni and I'm all settled into my new apartment, so I'll be able to update easier! How did you all like the boy's new material?? I adore Harry's new album as well as Niall, Louis, and Liam's singles. 
> 
> Also to those of you who're fans of Ariana Grande or had people you love that went to the Manchester concert, you all have my best wishes and I'll keep you all in my thoughts, stay strong♥
> 
> Best,
> 
> halcyonharry xx.


	14. NOT A CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter, sorry to get anyone excited, I just need to make a small announcement/vent/cry xx
> 
> Feel free to ignore/skip
> 
> hh xx

Hey friends,

I hope I didn't annoy any of you with the late night (or early morning, wherever you beautiful people are) notifications for an update, I just needed to get somethings off my chest as well explain some things, though this is unwarranted, but like I said, feel free to skip this chapter.

It's been a rough year and a half for me, and I've struggled to push through the writer's block in order to keep myself busy and to ignore the shit that is happening in my life. Writing is usually very therapeutic for me, but sometimes, it can't fix everything, which is why I took a veeeery long hiatus from writing this last year.

So a little about myself. (I'm going to change somethings for privacy sakes, also because i'm terribly afraid that one of you may know me, though the chances are very slim.

Anyways, I am 20 years old and I live in the United States, in the Midwest. 

When I began writing this story, I did it secretly, because my best friend at the time didn't really like Larry or Larry fanfiction, and I had a boyfriend and even though we almost had been dating for a year and a half, I'm pretty sure telling him I write One Direction fanfiction would be a dealbreaker, I digress.

So we'll call my friend, Miranda, and my boyfriend at the time, James. Mind you, both of them were in high school when I was in my first year of college. Miranda was a senior, and James was a junior.

James and I, like I mentioned, had been dating for about a year and a half, and it started out great, as most relationships do, but around the 7 month mark, things got bad fast.  
Blame it on the fact that I moved four hours away to go to college, but he had a car, and I still visited frequently. 

James broke up with me the weekend of Thanksgiving, over a text, feeding me the 'it's not you it's me' bullshit, and telling me that he couldn't date someone who was going into the army. 

And it broke my heart. I spent three days huddled over a toilet, throwing up and having panic attacks. I tried getting drunk to ease the pain, and after a little bit, the pain eased.

He kept in contact, saying that I deserved better (*dramatic eyeroll*).

So a few days later, I was on my way to work, when Miranda called me.

Now don't get me wrong, Miranda was a great friend, and she did what bf's are supposed to do- in this case, take a picture of my ex boyfriend holding hands with his (best girl friend).

Now I know what you're thinking..

"Holy shit *my real name here* is reliving one of T-Swift's music videos"  
"that bastard"  
"WTF?!"  
"well they were broken up right???"

Backstory: this best friend, we'll call her Rebecca, she was James' best friend, but she had a crush on him.

That's all fine and dandy, but what I didn't know is that James was cheating.

I saw the texts, the "you should break up with *my real name here*" and the "I will, promise"

When I got the call from Miranda I had the worst panic attack of my life. 

I earned myself a cot in the ER, I was shaking, drooling, hysterically crying, and I couldn't walk on my own. 

They gave me a shot of Ativan, and I was okay. 

I called James when I was supposed to be peeing in a cup, and I told him off (though I doubt he could understand what I had been saying, since I was hysterical)

Flash forward a week, and I'm okay, taking a half an Ativan when I would feel the panicking start to return.

Flash forward another week, and my dumbass is back with James.

We dated a few more months after that. About 7 more months after that. During those last seven months, things with James got worse. 

I didn't trust him, which should've been the first indication that we should've ended things for real.

But I was stupid and in love.

James started blaming his own anxiety on me, saying that I made him miserable. When I told him that I wanted to transfer schools and go to my dream college school, he tried to make me choose between him and school, saying that if I chose school, that I clearly cared more for my education that him (thank god I chose school). My college has a bit of a bad rep, it's a drinking school, but I've always been a fairly good student. 

James tried to manipulate me, tried to tell me that Miranda had said things behind my back, and that my other friends were a bad influence on me. He also started experimenting with drugs, and when I called his parents, he called me again to break up with me (we got back together a day later). 

James also tried suggesting that I be his FWB instead of his girlfriend.

In July, we finally broke up, after a year and a half of mental abuse, and that's when I published my first chapter of the Bittersweet Symphony on here. 

A month later, I was moved into my new dorm room at my dream school, and things were starting to look up.

But in December, Miranda stopped talking to me. I had to message her boyfriend and her family members to actually get a reason why.

As it turns out, Miranda had been wanting to cut me off for while. She said I was too self-centered, I wasn't a good daughter, that I wasn't a "victim", all that shit. She told me that being my friend was too exhausting, and in her own words, she didn't feel like dealing with me anymore.

I find that losing friends is far more devastating than a relationship breakup, and losing Miranda left a huge hole in my chest.

On top of this, I had a lot of drama in my residence hall, I was sexually harassed by a close friend, and my grades started to slip. My mom lost her job, and her house, and it felt like my world was collapsing around me. 

But somehow I'm here. 

But the reason I'm writing this lengthy biography, is because James called me tonight.

He called me a "piece of fucking shit" and said to stop telling people that he had mentally abused me. 

I wish I could tell you guys that I'm a strong person, that I'm wise enough to see a egomaniac when I see one, that I hung up and laughed and flipped my long blonde hair and shook my head.

But the truth is, I'm not strong, I didn't laugh, and I'm not blonde. 

For goodness sakes, I'm typing my heart out to strangers behind the screens of computers and phones worldwide. 

What James said ripped my heart out. I cried like a bitch for an hour, trying to cover my sobs so my family wouldn't hear me cry. I hate being a burden, and sometimes I feel like my anxiety is just that, a burden. Nonetheless, I called my best friend (I almost included her name because feel like she's too special to have her name be changed, but just in case), I called my best guy friends, a boy I loved, I called everyone, while sobbing alone on the porch. My best friend answered, and talked me down, and I was okay for a bit.

But if you suffer from anxiety or depression, you know that the good feelings are short-lived.

Hence why I'm writing this (not a) chapter.

I guess what I'm trying to do is clear my mind, to get an unbiased opinion from beautiful souls who don't know a thing about me other than my love for the boy with the dagger and the boy with the heart. 

I just needed an ear.

I guess you could say that I think of you guys as faceless friends. 

You all leave me such lovely comments, comments that honestly make my day a bit brighter, make me feel like I'm doing something right.

You all help ease my pain.

It's always been my dream to be a writer, and all of you, even the ones of you who just leave kudos or those of you who just give this WIP a chance and read, all of you are helping me realize that I can fulfill my dream.

So from the bottom of my heart, I want to say thank you for the support, everything, and hopefully, if you're still reading this mess, hopefully you can feel my love radiate from your screen like that creepy bitch from the Ring.

Also because I just wasted some of your time with this long ass chapter, I want to extend my ears to you. If any of you ever need a faceless friend, or someone to cry to, I offer solace in my tumblr page, you all can feel free to message me whenever, and I will always do what I can to help, because you've all helped me.

Again, I'm sorry for this mess, and I thank you.

HH xx.

you can message me on tumblr @ halcyon-harry

**Author's Note:**

> I feel scared of writing notes because who knows if anyone is going to read this (shoot me), but if anyone reads this, I hope you enjoy, make sure to leave some love (cough cough Kudos are much appreciated cough) 
> 
> xoxo Halcyon Harry :)
> 
> Btw my tumblr is halcyon-harry follow me!


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